


Just Shoot Me

by ElmiDol



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Betrayal, Debt!!!!, F/M, Medium Burn, Oral Sex, Reader is a mercenary, Sex, Slight Alternation of POVs, Target to Lover, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, slight glove kink, stuck together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2018-12-06 04:56:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 39,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11593389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElmiDol/pseuds/ElmiDol
Summary: You are given a target, and you accept the mission because, well, you are in debt. The debt is not your own, however it is great.Of course, how were you supposed to know that those who hired you would be such backstabbers? Or that you would then have to team up with your target in order to survive.The two of you would work together, or die failing!





	1. Mission Accepted

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HeartOfDreamer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartOfDreamer/gifts).



> I had this chapter outlined months ago when I first received the request. I'm going to try to do an update at least once a week, buuut also that is dependent on my health. Chapters will be "shorter", as in generally 2k to 3k.

 

Mission Accepted

On the occasions that someone mistakenly referred to you as a _bounty hunter_ , you took it as a personal affront. It was not as though bounty hunters didn’t do commendable jobs; it was that they thought they were better than mercenaries. They believed themselves more moral than those of your job title. You scoffed at this, lifted your drink to your lips, and continued to listen to the job proposition. Bounty Hunters would not take on the job, you were told, and that was why you had been sought out. It was a horrible lead-in. Did they want you to reject them? Or perhaps they did not give a flying kriff about your personal feelings. The money would be sufficient. You could deal with their stupidity for the time being.

As you listened to the details, you wondered if their assumption that _all_ bounty hunters would reject the job was a joke. Assassinations were nothing new. Okay, granted this was _not_ an assassination. Not exactly. It was political in its own way.

Those who had approached you were a splinter of the Resistance. They were mapping out their plans for you, the way they needed you to secure the General of the First Order. Bring him in as a prisoner so that he could be tried for his war crimes. You knew he would likely be executed—but, stars, it was not as though you knew the guy. That was something important in your line of work: do _not_ try to get to know the target. Empathizing with them would lead to you screwing up. He was a meal ticket—literally. You needed the credits.

Removing the toothpick that you had been chewing on, you set the splinter of wood into your empty cup. “Doesn’t have to be unharmed, you say?” You wondered if this was because they doubted your abilities, or if instead your target was truly formidable. You had heard the name in the past: General Hux. The First Order. A background sort of group for the time being, though one’s whose name was being whispered with an increased frequency. And now? Now he was going to bring you your biggest paycheck yet.

“Well enough to stand trial—but we’re aware that accidents happen at times.”

“Understandable,” you muttered, resisting the urge to roll your eyes at them again. Had they ever done this, hired someone? They were fidgety in some respects. Tapping their fingers on their glasses. One of their men almost constantly looking over his shoulder. A new recruit, no doubt. Not anyone _you_ would bring on a mission. If this was how their men were, though, you well understood why it was they needed the outside help. “You have the funds?” The man who had been speaking pursed his lips and gave a stern nod. “A third wired now, as promised. Then I’ll set out immediately.”

You wanted to do your own research on the man—check any outstanding battle reports. Some generals sat on their asses while they delegated the legwork to their subordinates. Was General Hux such a man? He had book smarts if rumors were true. Street smarts?  
Physical strength? You would bring a high-end blaster set on stun regardless. There was no way you were going to botch this. No way you were going to give bounty hunters a chance to say that mercenaries were inferior to them.

“Sending,” the man said, lifting up a datapad and scrolling. You waited to hear the tell-tale chime from your own device. Giving a quick nod, you turned on your heel and started away for your ship.

Some said that family businesses could skip a generation. Yours had skipped several. Five? That sounded close to correct. Five generations ago, the last mercenary in your family had fallen in love with a target. In order to make a clean break, he had made a deal with another mercenary to be hidden away. The deal? In five generation’s time, any family debt up to a certain figure would be paid by your ancestor’s descendant. Ergo, you had to pay off quite a few credits of debt belonging to a different household. The only thing that saved you from being murdered by debt collectors was that they _knew_ you were good for the money. You did not spend anything extra, only what you needed to survive. All other credits you gave to the collectors. Over the years, you had managed to pay off a third of the debt. This mission would pay off at least another third—if what those hiring said to you could be taken as the truth.

There were those in your line of business, still, who were ruthless. They took jobs that they caught wind you were considering. It was why you refused to lay low on this. You needed to get your ass in gear before anyone decided that they wanted in on the pay. You, quite literally, could _not_ afford that.

Ducking out of the establishment, you ignored the few catcalls that were directed your way. Ugh. Some people were lechers. Not only males like some people tried to insinuate. Women whistled at you as well. Leering. You were not wearing your full gear, which left your current attire showing off your figure a bit more than you normally allowed. Looks weren’t everything, you wanted to tell them; yet keeping up a smaller presence by _not_ attracting more attention from them was important.

.

.

.

Appearances were important; this General Armitage Hux had learned early in life. His father had regarded him with distaste, as nothing more than a nuisance. The public beatings had become less frequent the older General Hux had become. Or, rather, the older Brendol had grown. Rae Sloane had intervened in her own way as well—and General Hux was forever grateful. She had taught him how to be strong, how to put on a brave face, better than his father had. Perhaps a part of him loved her for that, as one would love a mother.

“Your presence will greatly boost our standings with—“

“I am aware,” the man said, cutting off the other officer. He felt his nostrils flaring as he exhaled in annoyance. Politics were so tiring when it came to entertaining certain individuals, yet these tasks of doing so were necessary evils. “Prepare the shuttle.”

“Right away, sir.”

 _You can allow for delay,_ he wanted to say. Yet General Hux held his tongue—between his teeth. Lieutenant Mitaka, one of the few officers left near him, spared him a quick glance. General Hux trusted the lieutenant; he was loyal. And one of the few men the redhead could trust to deliver messages even to Kylo Ren. The Force user made his officers quake in their boots. It was, of course, useful to have such allies; their enemies also feared the Master of the Knights of Ren. Despite his annoyance with the man, General Hux was not foolish enough to dismiss the fact that Ren was, ultimately, useful.

“I will be in contact with you shortly after I land,” the ginger haired man informed the lieutenant. Dopheld Mitaka responded accordingly, the man remaining in his post even when the general began to move away. Lieutenant Mitaka also knew the importance of appearances. Armitage Hux wished he had more men like him.

.

.

.

In hindsight, you almost should have questioned precisely how the Resistance cell had come into the information that it had. They knew _of_ a meeting that required General Hux’s presence, however had not been able to ascertain the exact location. They needed mercenary connections. And someone to do their dirty work in order to avoid any political backlash. _It’s safe to say they came to the right person,_ you thought as you switched the controls over to the navicomputer. The autopilot feature was one you quite liked in this vessel. It had been with you for only a year; before that, you had had to make due with a shuttle that threatened to die on you at any moment. Once more, you were grateful that the debt collectors were understanding—if you didn’t have a ship, you couldn’t give them their money.

 _Offspring of Brendol Hux,_ you read. That was right; you had nearly forgotten your target’s lineage. You lounged in your chair, finger flicking up on the datapad so that you could scroll through more lines of information. Much of it was unnecessary. No empathy. A target, not a person. You simply needed to know his strengths and— “Hmm.” Your eyes stuck on a picture of the man. More precisely, on _his_ eyes. You were torn as to whether they were beautiful or fierce. Having been in your line of work for years, you could read the veiled threat in his expression.

Your target was definitely _not_ a man to be reckoned with. Which explained the amount you would be paid.

 _You’ll be worth every credit,_ you thought, your lips quirking upwards into a wry grin. You were beyond tired of paying off another family’s debt. Being able to make such a large payment, that would be meaningful. To you, more than anyone else. Your only other alternative was to marry some rich prince or princess, and that was _not_ happening.

In part because of your pride. You weren’t going to get a sugar daddy—well, you thought, maybe you would eventually get a sugar daddy. But only after you paid off the debts. That was _your_ job. And speaking of jobs, you did have to admit that these Resistance members were one of your easier clients. Very accommodating, willing to meet you on whatever planet you happened to secure the general, within reason of course. This was something you could work with, less of a hassle. No worry that he would escape while in transport.

“Bit off the ear of—“ Your eyebrows rose considerably. Your target was merciless. “I like that…” He would have made a decent partner if it wasn’t for the fact that he was your target. Or a General in the First Order—politics could help your business, however they could also hinder it in multiple ways. You reached to the side of your chair and patted your blaster. “Thankfully, I have the edge here. He doesn’t know I’m coming. I’m going to stun him. Definitely. And…wear a helmet.” You muttered the last portion, looking around for said object. You wanted to ensure it could not easily be knocked off of your head by the man, or anyone. You liked your ears attached to yourself, thank you.

Having located the helmet, you did quick a survey of it then returned to the report you had paid for. The man was a decent shot—of _course_ he was. Assassinating him would have been easier. Why could they not be paying you to kill this man?

 _The pay is worth it!_ you told yourself.

Of course, eighteen hours later, you were saying the opposite. _The pay is **not** worth this! I want triple!_

But, dear reader, that’s getting ahead of yourself. Rewind those eighteen hours: you are still in your shuttle. Searching for blades on the off-chance that things come down to hand-to-hand combat. Scratch that. It will be a knife fight! You grin wickedly as you find a vibro blade. Perfect. You know all the places to cut that will not be fatal. Enough to disarm him—figuratively; you are uncertain how the Resistance would take it if you literally disarmed General Hux.

 _If he bites off my ear, I’m taking an arm,_ you promised yourself. _They can’t fault me for that. Good enough to stand trial…he doesn’t stand using his arms after all._

For a final time, you flick through the report; you want to ensure that you missed nothing important. You pause at his picture again.

“At least with that hair, he should stick out like a sore thumb.” An easy target. Or, if nothing else, an easily seen target.


	2. Necessary Preparations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The delay for the update was due to life, but mainly because I had misplaced the notebook that has pretty much the entire outline for a large chunk of this fic. All the details for the request that I accepted. So I was searching like a mad woman for it, and finally did find it. I should now be able to do as I said and update this fic at least once a week. I hope you all enjoy!

 

Necessary Preparations

Tracking down the planet and arriving there was the easy part. You would owe favors to those who assisted you in locating where the meeting would take place. That was no issue at all; the merc you had contacted for this purpose was respectful, unlike a few of the others you knew. You landed your ship on the outskirts of the town. It would be quite the trek, however not being discovered was a key part of the plan. First Order troopers were paranoid. At least that’s what you had been told by those who had had close contact with any.

With your ship grounded, you stood from the pilot’s chair and double-checked that you had all the materials you would need. Nothing too bulky. You pulled on a cloak that would shield your blaster from sight without inhibiting your movements. You then slung the strap of your bag over your shoulder, grabbed up a scope that you put into your pocket, and headed off ship.

The liquid in the canteen that was attached to your hip noisily sloshed about. You did not mind the sound. Being quiet was not an issue. From what you had learned, the First Order transport shuttle that would be carrying your target was due to land further away—closer to the town. Whatever political figure he was meeting with, they did not want to attract too much attention by holding the conversation in the more populated city that was not many miles away. That made _your_ job all the easier. Less local law enforcement to get in your way. They were never particularly fond of comdevice jammers like what you planned on using. You didn’t want a whole First Order fleet on your ass while you captured the general and got into contact with those who had hired you.

You were accustomed to traveling on foot, which left you feeling less weary than others in your position would be. You took a quick sip of the electrolyte-infused water that was in your canteen as you knelt on the edge of the cliff. There were several bushes that would mask your presence from anyone who deigned to glance around as they disembarked the transport shuttle that was in the process of landing. Given the angle, it was highly unlikely that you had been spotted at all. You replaced the canteen on your hip then lifted the scope.

You positioned the end of the scope in front of the visor of your helmet. The ramp was not down. This caused you to frown. Given that this planet was deemed _neutral_ when it came to conflict amongst outsides—in other words, between the Resistance and the First Order—you had expected the crew including the general would hurry their movements. The shuttle would be sent back into orbit once the man was on the ground, that much you were certain of. This delay was a nuisance. Though you could be patient, you wanted to get this job done before any other mercenary crept in on your territory.

Readjusting your position so that you were more comfortable, you continued to observe the ship. It did not take many more minutes before the ramp began to lower. _There,_ you thought, perking up a little. Two stormtroopers departed. _So… This is a slight complication._ Why you had believed that he would not bring a set of ‘troopers, you were not certain. Not that you weren’t prepared, of course.

The redhead was noticeable despite that he wore a hat. The way he carried himself. So confident. It was befitting of his rank. Behind him came another pair of stormtroopers. General Hux turned back to the ship. You observed him, watching as his mouth moved. The ramp was raised. The five individuals walked further away, and it was then that the transport shuttle began to rise. You nodded to yourself. _Good._

You trained the scope on the general again, taking note of how he walked. He was calm, though you could see the scowl on his face. Perhaps irritated. Hard pressed for time? That would mean he would be attempting to wrap up whatever business he had here quickly. You waited until you could see the group of five on the edge of the town, getting ready to enter it. You then rose from your position and headed for where the shuttle had been.

You reached into your pack as you walked. It was a shame that this job required the use of more expensive gadgets—ones you would have to leave behind and then replace—but it would be worth it. You had to keep reminding yourself of that. The beacon would send a false signal to the transport shuttle, as though it were picking up local static. They would not realize their communications _to and from_ those on this planet were jammed until General Hux did not report it. You did not doubt they had orders to not contact their superior until he initiated it. Safety protocols and all. You were only too happy to use them to your advantage.

It did not take you very long to set up the device. You tapped in the code that had been displayed on the edge of your scope; the ship’s information. If your scope received damage in the skirmish you were anticipating, you would be pissed. You set the object safely away in your pack. It was too exposed on your neck as you had had it. A single chime from the jammer told you that everything was working.

Tapping two fingers against the side of your helmet, you hummed a soft tune to yourself. Yet more waiting. You would utilize this time wisely. Scan your surroundings. Find the best position to strike. You would have to take out those stormtroopers first. Four of them. General Hux was undoubtedly armed as well. His blaster would have been hidden underneath the great coat that he was wearing.

 _I hate dealing with armor._ All the same, you were used to it. You had traps with you, like any smart mercenary. The electric shocks would travel through the armor, stunning the wearers. These were cheap to replace, although with the amount that you would need to order, it would add up. A price you could afford.

You began to spend time placing the traps, mapping out where best to put them while keeping in mind the range of each. Some traveled further than others; they had markings on their surface to let you know their range. You spaced them out as best you could for optimal cover. The charges would hardly have an effect on Armitage Hux; they were designed for armor, not outfits made of material.

That’s where your blaster would come in. _And my helmet will protect my ears._

.

.

.

There were numerous political figureheads that General Hux somewhat enjoyed interacting with, especially when it meant furthering the First Order agenda. This meeting was not hosted by any of those beings. He kept his facial expressions in check, knowing that anything the politician _could_ take offense to, he _would_. A spoiled brat who had never seen war firsthand. General Hux knew this individual to collect relics of the fallen Empire as a way to show off his wealth. He was not the only one to do this either. He was, however, the sole individual with the audacity to flaunt them before General Hux when the redhead had agreed to this meeting for more serious matters.

His stormtroopers remained standing alert. Perfectly trained. Armitage Hux was proud of them, of those who had trained them. Though he found himself disagreeing with Captain Phasma every now and again, he did not doubt her capabilities. At this point, he was thinking he would have been wiser to have accepted her offer to accompany him to this meeting. He simply had not wanted to stretch their resources so thin, all for the sake of entertaining this manchild.

Even Ren during one of his fits of rage was not such a nuisance.

General Hux steepled his fingers and gave a nod to indicate he was still listening to the man as he ranted on. These were matters that could have been taken care of from a distance. As much as the redhead wished to say this aloud, he held his tongue. The other could be disposed of at a later time, but currently he still had his uses. “I will have those documents forwarded,” General Hux drawled when the politician touched on matters that were hardly worth noting. Yet more business that could have been brought up without a personal meeting. This was one of the men who supplied important funds for the First Order. General Hux reminded himself to play nice for what felt like the umpteenth time.

The main annoyance was that General Hux well knew he was putting his own life on risk for this meeting—and that was what irritated him the most. A Resistance spy could gain intel on his location. On whom he dealt with. All for a senseless meeting. Matters that were miniscule, especially in the grand scheme of things.

If everyone in the galaxy knew what was best for them, they would not cross his path this day.

.

.

.

You stared down at the remote that was in your hand. The traps were all connected to it. Four buttons. One to turn on the wider-net traps and another to turn them off; two for the smaller-net traps. With this controller you would be able to deal with the four stormtroopers who were with your target. Of course, you had also had to be careful to not place any of the traps too close to your jammer. Now _that_ would have been a massive failure. You had heard of such a tale from a drunk bounty hunter once. One of their teammates had died as a result. You worked alone and had no room for such errors.

You began walking closer to the jammer. Genuflecting beside the device, you made a quick check to ensure it was running properly. _Good. They haven’t figured it out yet. Thank you, military protocol!_

Rising to your feet, you cast another look over your shoulder. No one in the distance. That offered you enough time to find cover so that the stormtroopers would be oblivious to your presence. And Hux as well. If he was willing to bite the ear off an enemy, he was probably willing to shoot a suspicious character such as yourself. The shielding on your armor could only take so much damage. Not knowing what sort of charge General Hux had for his personal blaster, you weren’t going to chance a hit.

Now that your other preparations were finished, you moved to find cover. Unlike other planets you had been on in the past, this place wasn’t a complete wasteland. Not entirely filled with vegetations, however there were places you could conceal yourself. You ducked behind one of the thicker areas, hoping this would better mask your presence if the stormtroopers had scanners. Not that it would do them much good—the moment they were alerted to your presence, you’d be firing up the traps, if not before. The idea that General Hux would know though—he’d need more than a quick stun blast. He’d be fighting you.

 _Unless I get lucky and he is somehow touching one of the ‘troopers. Doubtful, but always possible._ The traps would then slow him down. Anything to make this job go quickly.

Of course, it could only go as quickly as it took the man to be heading back in this direction. _Who in the Maker is this guy meeting with? It’s been hours!_ It would be just your luck if your target had decided to spend the night on planet. Another thirty minutes, and you heard the most beautiful sound in the galaxy: five sets of footsteps. _Showtime!_


	3. Worth It?

 

Worth It?

The bodies of the stormtroopers began to spasm the moment that you hit the switch for the traps. No one had appeared to have taken notice of you beforehand. You felt yourself smiling gleefully, pleased that your plan was working well for the time being. You knew that the stormtroopers were the easy part. Their armor released a clattering. You hit the switch for the trap, having no desire to keep the electrical current running long enough to kill them. The moment that the stormtroopers had met with the force of the trap, General Hux had taken a step back away from them. His hand was tucked into his overcoat. You squinted, grabbed up your scope and swore underneath your breath. He was reaching for his weapon.

There had been no information in regards to the man’s accuracy as a long distance shooter. You doubted that he would set it to stun. If he fired at you, it would be to kill you. Cradling your own blaster, you felt your scowl growing when his eyes began to scan the area. You finger skimmed over the switch that would adjust the settings. It was set to stun; if you killed the man, there would be no bounty. If you missed with your first shot, it would be more difficult to apprehend him. That would give away your position. Your prey was not unarmed, otherwise you would have risked it.

Leaning forward more, you maneuvered yourself so that your aim was lower on the man’s body. The blast would hit either your target’s torso or the hand that was wrapped around the blaster. You eyed him through the scope again. A swear tore itself from you. The man’s finger was on the trigger. If he did have it set to kill, the spasm that would potentially run through his body upon the stun blast hitting him could cause him to fire. He would shoot himself—which, if he only lost a foot, you were fine with that. If he hit an artery? Blasted off his entire leg and bled out?

“You kriffing slimeball,” you growled, keeping your voice low.

General Hux stepped past the bodies of the stormtroopers. All four of them remained unmoving. The effects of the trap would last long enough for you to encounter your target. Once they regained consciousness, their movements would be sluggish. They were no threat to you or your mission. It was just you and the redhead.

_I can do this!_

It was not a difficult mission, not in its nature. You simply did not enjoy what you recognized you would have to take as a course of action. Using yourself as a target to draw General Hux’s blaster towards you so that you could stun him without worry of him harming himself in the process of being captured. Before you rose from the cover you had previously chosen, you reached back with one hand to tap on your hip. The cuffs were readily available. You gave yourself a quick nod, tucked your knees under yourself, and pushed up off the ground.

His eyes snapped to you, the man whipping out his blaster and taking aim. His shot barely missed your head. It may have connected with your shoulder had you not had the foresight of jumping further away from the area you had been. You squeezed the trigger of your weapon. The blast hit the ground directly beside the toe of his left boot. With a snarl, you chastised yourself for not having readjusted your aim after avoiding his blast. A rookie mistake. This one could cost you your life. Genral Hux did not seem like the type of man who would toy with you, would prolong this fight. He was shooting to kill, not maim. You readied yourself to fire his way again while also remaining prepared for him to shoot at you.

.

.

.

In his opinion, the day thus far had been a waste of time. The excitement brought on by this bounty hunter aiming for him was not entirely unwelcome. Though he loathed the prospect of being shot—those were stun blasts; he recognized them by the sound they made, by the manner in which the hunter was aiming at his torso and pausing whenever his own weapon was in a position where might harm himself with a stray blast—this appearance of the bounty hunter allowed him to become aware that a party was taking his presence within the First Order rather personally. He doubted that it was another First Order officer. Even those who would seek to claim his position as their own, they would not risk anything as flashy as a bounty hunter.

Although, his mind noted as he felt himself beginning to snarl when his second blast missed as the one hunting him dropped into a squat; this particular hunter was rather practical. Careful. They had waited until he was away from anyone who could spot his capture.

Capture was the key word there. General Hux paused midway through the act of pulling the trigger for a third time. He began to walk closer to the bounty hunter, his blaster in a position where he could easily fire at either his opponent…or himself. The other visibly stiffened. An intelligent foe, the redhead noted with a growing smirk. He was less insulted now. People were not underestimating him.

.

.

.

Your target was getting bonus points in your mind when it came to his IQ. It was not everyone who could differentiate between stun blasts and those meant to kill. He had also been capable of deducing your intent. He knew that you needed him alive. Your target was _not_ supposed to be privy to that information. It gave him the upper hand. You scrambled a step backwards, retraining your weapon on him. Your finger hovered beside the trigger without curling around it. If you tripped, you did not want to fire at him.

“I take it you have a scrambler?”

His voice was not unpleasant. It was rich in its accent; his tone conversational. Nearly flirtatious, although you knew this was a means of mocking you. Your attire concealed your gender. _Oh._ His attempts to get you to speak would allow him to know that you were female. Information gathering. _He would have made a great ally._

As it was, you focused on the fact that he was _not_ your ally. He was a meal ticket. A means of paying off the large sum of debt that had been building. You mentally calculated your next move. Allowing General Hux to close the distance was both foolish and a good move. You would be able to wrestle his blaster from him; or at least knock it out of the way right before taking a shot. With this in mind, you mimicked his actions and took three steps closer.

His eyes narrowed. You recognized the expression on his face. The man was attempting to figure out your next move. You had the advantage of being flexible. There were at least eight ‘next moves’ that you were considering based on how General Hux reacted. That was all a part of being a good mercenary.

“I do not believe we’ve met, bounty hunter.”

It rankled you, the term. You felt yourself physically reacting, your grip tightening on your blaster.

“Ah, a mercenary, I see.” This man was well-versed in psychological warfare. “Hmm. You’re rather small—female?”

“How observant, General Hux,” you said in an overly sweet tone. You and he were only yards apart now. Not close enough for you to knock away his blaster. The redhead dropped his gaze away from your masked face to consider that weapon you had trained on him. Your finger slipped into position, however you still did not fire. “It would be best if you didn’t waste my time.”

There were few warning signs. One moment his muscles contracted, and the next he had lurched to the side whilst also thrusting his body closer to yours in a tackle. Air was knocked out of your lungs at the impact, both of you toppling to the ground. You did not lose your grip on the weapon in your hands. He kept hold of his blaster as well. The man began to slip it upwards. You slammed your head forward. The helmet you wore connected with his face. General Hux responded by reeling back and slamming the butt of his blaster against your helmet. The knocking echoed in your ears. Your neck protested the impact.

Your mind was not startled enough for you to lose ground. You squeezed the trigger, however the blast only skimmed the side of his arm. That was enough for the limb to go numb. It was not his dominate side, though, and so while one arm dangled lamely, the other rose to point the blaster at you. 

Without pause, you slammed your knee up, forcing the nozzle higher. The blast he had intended for your face shot into the sky. You knew better than to remain where you had been. You rolled out from underneath your target. One hand dropped away from your blaster to seize hold of the cuffs. You prepared them simultaneous to adjusting your aim. General Hux was not motionless through this all. He was not moving to attack you directly again. The next shot was rewarded with an explosion.

You slammed one side of the cuffs onto his numbed wrist, foolishly looking over your shoulder to witness the outcome of his blast. The jammer was sparking, exposed wires sizzling.

A pressure on your wrist had you whipping back around. The nozzle of his blaster met the underside of your chin. You were forced to tilt back your head. The kriffing redhead had the two of you locked together with _your_ restraints. You jammed your blaster into his side. If he shot you, he would die—your thumb hit the switch so that it was set to kill and not stun. General Hux’s eyes darkened, however his smirk seemed to grow. You could read the admiration in his expression; he thought you to be a worthy opponent.

“Well, now, this is interesting.” Despite his words and the expression on his face, the man had managed to achieve a bored tone. “The highlight of my day.”

“Highlight of my day is when I get paid for this,” you countered. General Hux hummed. His eyes were running along your helmet, looking for any imperfection that he could take advantage of. You took a single step backwards, jerking your arm so that his numbed limb was forced along—which meant he had no choice but to step forward if he wanted to keep his blaster in place. The amusement died in his eyes. There were hints of anger, his jaw clenching for one. “How’d you like to take a ride with me?”

Though phrased as a suggestion, both of you were aware that you were ordering him. General Hux said nothing in response to your words. He was also not a fool. He followed your lead as you walked backwards in the direction of your ship. At some point, you would need to turn around so that you did not trip and thus get both of you shot. You sidestepped next. His blaster remained under your chin, however his arm was now stretched across his chest. Your weapon trailed along his body, never once breaking contact.

With weapons aimed at one another, the two of you continued walking in the direction of your ship. The stormtroopers would be knocked out for a few minutes longer. Enough time so that they would not see you. It was possible that the four would be able to see your ship leave. And they would see the wreckage of the jammer. That the jammer was now destroyed—that offered the possibility of the First Order becoming aware now that their signals had been jammed at all. You had no time to waste.

Which was probably why the man was quite literally dragging his feet to prolong the trip. You were going to have the whole damn First Order on your ass.

_The pay is **not** worth this! I want triple!_

Triple would allow you to disappear after fulfilling your mission. Get rid of your debts entirely so that you could go into hiding until the First Order forgot all about you.

You patted your pocket with the hand that was attached to General Hux’s limb. Your heart felt as though someone was squeezing it. In the skirmish, the release mechanism for the cuffs must have fallen out. You were stuck to this man until you delivered him. There would be no finding an opportunity to stun him, because you sure as all hell were _not_ going to literally drag him along.

 _It’s all worth it,_ you muttered in your head despite that you knew it was a lie. You really should have demanded more when you had learned who your target was.

“Problem?”

“Mmhmm. I’m stuck with you.” You wiggled your wrist, causing the cuff to jangle as the two of you walked. Your ship was in sight. Judging by General Hux’s snort, he was not impressed. Good thing his opinion did not matter.


	4. Find Your Partner

 

Find Your Partner

Boarding your ship was the easy part. General Hux did just attempt to pull away from you; he was quite content to keep his blaster underneath your chin. Thankfully, you were plenty capable of running things without use of your hands. It came with the job, funnily enough. A broken arm while the other was occupied with a weapon? Not a problem! You kicked off your boots, earning a hum of thought from your prisoner. You lifted your leg, pressing your toe against the button that caused the ramp to begin to raise. Your helmet did not block your peripheral vision enough to where you would be oblivious to how General Hux’s eyes dropped towards your lap at your display of flexibility.

You did not allow this to distract you from your job. Time was ticking and if you wanted to be off planet before reinforcements began to arrive for General Hux, you had to start up your ship as soon as possible. You dragged General Hux along with you, pressing your shoulder against his so that he was positioned in front of the co-pilot’s chair. You dropped into your seat, lifting your legs and beginning to use your toes to manipulate the correct switches and buttons. Your prisoner slumped into his seat and watched you with mild curiosity. Neither of you had yet moved your blasters away from one another.

“You have quite talented feet, don’t you,” the man drawled. He was bored, liked to hear himself talk, or both. You did not find his statement worthy of a response, however, and so you did not reply. Slouching a little further in your seat, you held your blaster at an angle and turned on the assisting pilot feature. That had been an expensive addition to the vessel, but one well worth the money and increased duration of your debt. “Well, then, are you a Resistance sympathizer or simply looking for a payday?”

“Payday,” you mumbled, responding solely because you were aware he would keep talking. “And, no,” you continued, cutting him off the moment he opened his mouth to say more, “I am not interested in you offering me more pay. You would be freed…and I would be executed regardless if you parted with the credits or not.”

His eyes ran along you again. The blaster in his hand shifted but a little; not enough for you to take advantage and stun him. You did not break atmosphere immediately. Instead you maneuvered your ship further across the planet. This would aid in putting distance between yourself and the Star Destroyer that would be hovering above. Waiting for General Hux’s return along with whatever transport shuttle would be sent. You needed to get rid of your prisoner and soon. That did not require you to remain too close to this planet.

You pressed your toe against the commlink that was encrypted; it was set to call those who had hired you. As you at last broke atmosphere, you relayed the message that a nearby planet would be a more appropriate place to meet. It took only seconds for you to receive acknowledgement. They agreed without complaint, which told you that they well understood the risk to your life if you kept the prisoner for too long.

“You will soon be outgunned, General,” you teased, once more adopting the too-sweet tone. The redhead was blissfully silent at this. You could see his scowl, which bespoke of his growing irritation with this entire ordeal. You grinned widely. The pay would be worth this even if you believed you should have been offered more.

Three minutes later, the man jangled his wrist. The numbing effect was starting to wear off. You clicked your tongue against your teeth. It was a smart move, you praised yourself, to wear a helmet. He could not lean over and bite your ear. General Hux preoccupied himself with staring at your lap or else your feet. You idly wondered if he had a foot fetish You did not care enough to know the answer.

Space stretched out before you. The Star Destroyer would be behind, a speck if you dared to look back. As for the shuttle that the Resistance members would be piloting, that was not yet in sight. They were wise in keeping away. It was another reason you had accepted the job aside from the pay. Dealing with those foolish enough to take too many unnecessary risks generally resulted in having to pay for repairs that surpassed what you had been given in credits as payment.

General Hux did not remove his eyes from you the entire time that you piloted your ship. He was assessing you once more, learning how capable you were. If you had not been meeting up with the Resistance team, you would have worried that he would use this information to gain an advantage over you. Those blue orbs at last left you when the speck that was the Resistance ship began to filter into view. He did not allow panic to show on his features, nor any worry. This was a man who could control his expressions, which was something you respected.

Static crackled over the commlink followed by one of the members confirming that it was your ship arriving. You rolled your eyes whilst going through these formalities. The ship grew larger the more you neared it. Its doors opened for you to park your shuttle in the landing bay. You cut the power to save on fuel. Several Resistance members were awaiting your arrival, standing back and not tearing their eyes away. They could see the redhead through the windshield. Scowls and glares bore daggers into the general. This meant, of course, that they could also see that the man was still armed. First one and then the others drew their weapons.

You placed your feet on the floor, your legs a bit sore from the prolonged period of using them to pilot the ship. General Hux and you stood in unison. You hoped that the Resistance members had the sense to _not_ fire at General Hux and thus kill not only the redhead but you as a result. They wanted him to stand trial, and so you were willing to take the risk. For a second time you used your foot to hit the switch for the ramp. The doors opened, revealing that two of the members of the team that had hired you had walked around.

“As a head’s up, I should inform you that the release mechanism was lost during my apprehending him.”

“It looks like he apprehended you as well,” one of the men cut in with a smile of derision.

_It’s worth the pay. Just take it. Don’t shoot your mouth off._

“I couldn’t very well let him take out a limb or his own life—you said you wanted him alive.”

As you spoke, you and your prisoner descended the ramp. You had caught sight in your peripheral that the other members were coming to join their comrades. You had failed to notice or even speculate that one would put a blaster to the back of your head while the other acted similarly with General Hux. You felt a sinking in the pit of your stomach. This was something you would have expected from others, but the Resistance? Names were lies, masks worn to hide the true nature of the individual. Beside you, General Hux barked out a laugh. It was a cruel sort of chuckle that further drove in the knife that had metaphorically been stabbed into your back.

“Dead would have been fine…unless you ran away. That would leave loose ends.”

Being chained to your prisoner meant that the moment he whipped around and dropped to a knee, you were swung along with him. The blaster fire that had been intended to blow out both your brains and his instead blasted away the face of one Resistance member while maiming the shoulder of the second. General Hux’s blaster was no longer under your chin. He pointed it at the gut of the individual who would have killed him. The gore caused you to wince, however it was nothing you were a complete stranger to. Thus you were able to regain your senses in enough time to fire at the other Resistance member.

More poured in from the doorway; you were not certain how large the team was. One had the sense to fire at your ship rather than you and General Hux, which cut off any escape plans. Three shots more—and five from his comrades—and your ship was suddenly in no shape to fly.

“Kriff!” you growled, groaning and feeling a whine coming on.

“Yes…now you’ll be stuck barefoot,” General Hux said quietly, shooting another of his enemies. You whipped your head, looking at him and resisting the urge to slam your helmeted head into his unprotected skull. Knocking him out, of course, meant giving yourself a weight to drag around while you avoided being shot…and one less gun. “Are you still opposed to a counter offer?”

“What, I save you and you don’t have me killed?” His eyes slid to you even as he took aim. His blast hit home, killing the individual with whom you had met for the job. “I’m not really in the position to decline at this moment.”

“Nor am I.” His words were nearly drowned out by the sound of an alarm blaring as the automated voice called out that the ship would self-destruct in five minutes. This was followed by what sounded to be one of the escape pods being released. There was a chance that the others were deactivated.

It was a chance you were both willing to take. Blasters in hand, you and your prisoner-turned-temporary-ally rushed forward in the direction from which the Resistance members had previously arrived. The redhead’s strides were longer than yours, which resulted in him pulling you along a few times. You did not object to this. Time was hardly on your side.

“Should I perish because of the loathsome Resistance hiring an imbecilic mercenary, I—“

“Shut your piehole, asswipe!” you yelled, bristling with both anger and growing frustration. “We don’t have time for you to waste talking to yourself. The escape pods have all been set to launch.”

As you spoke, a second of the pods broke free from the vessel that would soon be your casket if things did not improve. The third launched not long thereafter. Only one escape pod remained. Given that it was set to launch, the doors had begun to seal themselves. General Hux fired his weapon at the panel, sending sparks flying. The lock mechanism released, and you forced yourself past the man by throwing your body inside. The momentum dragged the redhead along with you. He hardly had enough time to reseal the escape pod before it, like all the others, launched toward the planet below.

You were not out of the woods yet so to speak. You stared with eyes wide as saucers as the escape pod gained speed. If it did not reach a far enough distance, there was a chance that debris from the wrecked Resistance ship would blast the pod you were in away as well.

 _At least there’d be no more worrying about debt,_ you thought, feeling the hysteria building within you.

This was unlike any of your missions in the past. The funny thing was, you had experienced backstabbing where the party who hired you tried to have you killed instead. This was the closest anyone had gotten, however. The explosion was too bright for your eyes to handle, and so you turned away. You stared instead at the other pods that were set to land on the planet below. It was a tropical planet with more oceans than land. You wondered if you would make it after the crash.

And if you did, what then? You had no means of contacting anyone who owed you a favor, or whom you could later owe a favor. General Hux, likewise, would be unable to reach the First Order. You would be stranded with him.

Stars, what if he managed to remove your helmet and bite off your ear?

“If we somehow meet those who survived, I will kill them.” You turned your head to the side, regarding the man to whom you were still chained. He met your gaze. “You will follow my lead.”

You laughed in his face.


	5. Learning Curves

 

Learning Curves

“My feet hurt.” That was the line from you that so annoyed your unwanted companion. Not that you much cared; he was part of the reason you were barefoot while trying to survive. Backtracking, however, to allow you to better understand why you so wished to see the man perturbed would be wise. After all, things had gone downhill since we left off with you laughing in his face.

And so, let us return to that moment, that precise second.

_You laughed in his face._

The escape pod was heading down to the planet, possibly set to crash in one of the oceans, unlikely to make its way to land. There you were, laughing so hard that you doubled-over, clutching your stomach and squeezing your thighs together as you felt the urge to pee growing. Stars, you had never been with such an arrogant man. Follow his lead? The pair of you could very well die in the crash! Not to mention the fact that _you_ likely possessed far more field experience than he did. He was going to follow your lead, or else the two of you were going to die on this planet…together. Was it strange that you would have rather died alone? Or, at the very least, been stuck with someone you had some sort of connection with—someone who would have made you want to strip down to nothing as you spent what were possibly your final moments together. Instead you were trapped with this person who would likely take an ear if you removed your helmet.

Your laughter began to die down. Sides aching, you rocked back onto the heels of your feet and looked past the man out the viewport. The planet was fast approaching; the escape pod was beginning to break atmosphere.

“At least if we’re to die, it’s not a bad view.”

General Hux lifted his hand, thrusting his wrist towards your face. “I don’t have time for your sentimental drivel,” he growled. You flinched and batted at him. His fingers snapped around your hand, squeezing hard enough that you grit your teeth from the pain. “I do not intend on dying. The course we’re on should take us to land, and from there I will find a means of contacting the First Order. You _will_ submit and follow my lead. Do I make myself clear?”

“When you snarl like that, you are a _lot_ less attractive,” you drawled, grateful that you were not the sort of person to throw caution to the wind and strip to have sex with some random stranger when you believed you were about to die.

With the hand that was not holding tightly onto your wrist, the redhead pinched your chin with his thumb and forefinger. You met his glare without breaking the contact. “As though you’re appealing in some way,” he murmured. Your pride was getting the better of you. You wanted to smack him; no, you wanted to punch him in the face. All because he had pissed off enough people that members of the Resistance were willing to double-cross their hired help to take him out. This man was an unbearable asshole; except you’d _have_ to find some way to put up with him if you hoped to survive.

The pair of you were thrown against one another as the escape pod picked up even more speed. You both slammed against the wall, his shoulder hitting your sternum. You felt all the air escape your lungs. Tears of pain sprang to your eyes. Stars, you could hardly breathe. You did not remain conscious to see the impact through; your world went black and sound was a distant memory.

What awoke you was the sensation that your arm was being practically pulled out of its socket. It was strained—no, not quite. You attributed the pain to whatever injury you had managed to sustain from the crash. General Hux had somehow been correct in his statement that the two of you would make it to land. You were on his back, both your arms pulled over his shoulders. That was making the strain in your arm worse, the way your wrist remained bound to his despite him carrying you. And there was a breeze in your hair. In your peripheral you could see the exterior of your helmet.

The sleemo. _You_ would have bitten _his_ ear for taking your helmet if it wasn’t for the fact that said item was shielding him.

“I see you’re awake.”

Before you had a chance to respond, you were literally flipped over his body. You landed on your ass, your tailbone knocking against the toe of his boot. There was no way for you to hold back the yelp of pain. How many bruises did your body already have from this ordeal?

“Carry your own weight now. Your blaster is in its holster.” You patted at the mentioned weapon and were content to find that he had not lied about this. That hardly endeared him to you, not after the way he had been acting.

As though he had allowed for enough time for you to rise, the redhead began to walk again. You were dragged two steps before he swore at you. You leapt awkwardly to your feet, swayed, and scrambled forward. Your demands that he return your helmet to you fell on willingly deaf ears. Your bare feet landed on rocks and twigs that had a tendency to dig into the first few layers of flesh. Hissing every so many steps, you had uttered for the first time: “My feet hurt.” The man visibly bristled, however he chose to refrain from commenting.

And that, dear reader, was why you said for the fortieth time, albeit in sing-song upon this repetition: “My feet hurt.”

“Maker, I don’t give a flying kriff how your feet are faring. Shut that farkling mouth of yours before I blast it off!”

Without hesitation, you said in reply, “Perhaps I’d be silent if you returned my helmet.”

You perked up when the man lifted one hand to your possession. He undid the latch, tossed the helmet to the ground, and, as you were stepping forward to grab it, whipped out his blaster and shot a hole through it. Your jaw dropped. What a waste of a perfectly good piece of armor! This man was far too prissy and spiteful for your liking; though, on the other hand, he did remind you of a few other mercenaries with whom you had conducted business. You stared at the trail of smoke that was rising from the charred edges of the hole.

The tropical trees were more sparse than the tall grasses of the island on which you had landed. Those grasses rustled. The noise drew General Hux’s gaze away from you and your helmet. His finger hooked towards the trigger on his blaster. You placed your hand on yours. Cocking your head to the side, your ear up to better listen, you waited. Though it was far from being cold, there were goosebumps forming. This was not a planet you had visited in the past; you did not know what predators it housed. The rustling grasses had been occurring at random intervals ever since you had sliced open your foot on a particularly large twig. Something was hunting you.

“We should put this argument on hold,” you said while removing your blaster from its holster. 

.

.

.

The mercenary had been getting on his last nerve for the better part of an hour; upon realizing the predicament she was in, however, there was a change in her attitude. This was something Armitage Hux found he could appreciate. While some mercenaries worked in pairs or groups, there were those who remained more solitary. This particular mercenary was likely one of those beings. He could forgive her earlier bouts of annoying behavior in favor of working with her to survive. That had, after all, been his original plan once they had managed to secure an escape pod. She was not entirely unpleasant company either; General Hux was aware of her skills in combat, and that was something he knew would be useful in this environment.

There was also the fact that he was guilty of goading her into some of the minor fits of rage she had displayed. The huffing, the juvenile behavior of repetitiveness where the sole purpose was to annoy him.

He was far from oblivious to her injuries on the soles of her feet. Those could well have been prevented had he not allowed his irritation to take root. As little blood as there was, it was obviously enough for whatever creature was hunting them. Hux murmured his assent to the words from his companion. They could bicker—and possibly try to kill one another—when the danger at hand had passed. In the meanwhile, there would be a temporary truce.

“Follow my lead.”

“Your learning curve is very low, isn’t it?” Stars, if he wasn’t certain that he needed her, he would have blasted her arm off at the wrist and rid himself of her presence. If he was ever placed into a position where he had to be handcuffed to this woman or Ren… Shooting himself would be an acceptable alternative. “Honestly, if you were a true leader, you would have given me either your boots or your socks then taken the other for yourself. That would have reduced the number of injuries to my feet, and we wouldn’t be in this position.”

Reigning in his anger though he felt his face growing hot—it was likely red, which further irritated him—Armitage released a breath through his nose then turned to the woman. She had a point, damn her. All the same, he did not have time for a lecture. General Hux grabbed her hand in his and yanked her behind him just as the creature launched itself out of the tall grass and towards her. If it successfully grabbed her, he would be towed along; unless, of course, it ripped off her limbs. Again, though, he unfortunately required her assistance. There would be more creatures like this. And the Resistance members who had landed here on the other escape pods. All these would be dealt with, and only once he was securely aboard a First Order vessel would he deal with ending the life of the mercenary who had managed to capture him.

.

.

.

The sharp pain that assaulted you when your unwanted ally pulled you reminded you that your body was in less than stellar shape. You were thankful for his reflections, for his actions, however, given that the fanged feline seeking your life would have otherwise caught you. It whipped around, crouching down and snarling. You had never seen anything so ugly in your life. It had no fur, or at least nothing so visible. Its skin reminded you of a serpent, which made sense given its natural habitat. The green-brown pattern would help it camouflage in the grasses. Its canine teeth protruded past its lips. Similar to a reptile, the creature flicked its forked tongue out of its mouth. Whether it was tasting or smelling the air, you were uncertain.

You aimed your weapon at its head. “Hold your fire,” the man beside you said. You did not argue, and found yourself surprisingly calm despite the fact that he was taking lead as he was wont to do. “Listen.” You obeyed him once more. The rustling of the grasses continued on despite the creature being in front of you. There were more; pack hunters, you noted with an inward groan. Such creatures could well take care of the Resistance members before you met up with them. “They’re no strangers to blasters.”

Your eyes flicked from the redhead’s weapon to the creature and back. Its stare was indeed on the nozzle of the blaster. It stalked leftward, not tearing its gaze away from the metal. You observed it disappearing into the foliage without moving a muscle yourself.

Both you and General Hux waited, each of you listening as the rustling of the grass began to fade. The creatures would not stop hunting you. You imagined they would regroup. The next time they came after you, there would be more than two or three of them.

“Well,” you said with a scowl. “ _My_ learning curve is fantastic. I’ll follow your lead.” This time he could not hold in his groan of exasperation. You were mildly pleased with yourself, a smile coming to your face. “First, though, if you could give me your socks or boots, that’d be great. Preferably your boots. It will better mask the scent of the blood.”

As if you needed any more bruises, the man who had once been your quarry literally kicked his boots off at you. They hit your shins, which resulted in you grunting. Rolling your eyes, you bent down long enough to pull them onto your feet then rose to your full height. You made a sweeping gesture with your hand then gave him a mock salute as a means of saying that you would now submit the role of leader to him. General Hux lowered his eyes to your feet then slowly raised his gaze upwards, allowing time to check over your entire body. You endured his scrutiny without a word, choosing to meet his stare when it landed on your face.

“Do you need to use the bathroom before we continue?” It was a clipped sentence. You thought on his words, thought about how your bladder _was_ uncomfortably full, and looked at where your arms were attached. “Either way, _I_ need to relieve myself. Given that we are clearly being hunted by the wildlife here, I believe one of us should keep guard while the other urinates. I am willing to allow you to go first.”

“That’s rather sweet… Which hand do you use to hold your cock?” You eyed your attached wrists with disgust.

“I’m quite talented with both hands actually.”

Good response. “Alright. I’ll pee first. But… I should warn you… I don’t have a dick I can readily whip out, and I’ll need to wipe.” His gaze was on the front of your pants. “Would you mind looking the other way and holding my pants down?” His tongue flicked out to wet his lips. Rather than appearing turned on by your request, he was frowning. Another good response. “You can handle your weapon with one hand, can’t you?”

“I’d have preferred you to have a dick.”

“It’s good to be honest, General.”

Without further ado, the pair of you moved towards an area to relieves yourselves. On the way, the redhead saw fit to grab some leaves he knew to be appropriate for wiping. You would have preferred if he hadn’t thrown them at your head when you requested them.


	6. Not Exactly Separated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it. If not, I hope you have an awesome day all the same. Much love!
> 
> As a side note, I've been having issues with the formatting of chapters as I submit them. Trying to figure all that out. So sorry for any issues when it comes to that. I never had a problem before, yet in the last few weeks there have been issues.

 

Not Exactly Separated

 

With the need of emptying your bladder out of the way, you determined that the next step of survival would be to find something edible. Given that you had submitted the role of leadership over to the man who was in handcuffs with you, however, you held your tongue. There were more hours left of daylight judging by the angle of the sun. You would see if General Hux came to the same conclusion as you. Give him at least another hour, and then suggest it in a mocking tone as you gloated over how much of a superior survivalist you were. Just as that thought crossed your mind, the redhead paused in his steps, snatched up a handful of berries, and extended his hand to you, offering some of the food. You scowled. It felt as though your chest deflated.

 

You had _so_ wanted to gloat.

 

Not looking a gift bantha in the mouth, you cupped your hand alongside his. Hux rotated his wrist, rolling it to where the berries fell down the slope of his hand and into yours. He curled his fingers, catching half of them before they could fall. The two of you began to walk while popping one of the berries into your mouths. You eyed him, observing him chewing before you began to do so as well. He swallowed, took another into his mouth, and glanced your way. His nostrils flared. The expression on his face was one of tolerance.

 

Not breaking eye contact, you took one of the berries between your forefinger and thumb, lifted it to your lips, and licked it. His eyes dropped from yours before he could catch himself. General Hux scowled when he managed to jerk his gaze up…and clenched his teeth as his eyes wandered down to the way you had half the berry in your mouth and sucked at it. Snarling, the redhead set one finger against the other side of the berry. You let him push it into your mouth. It was a quick gesture. The next moment, he turned sharply on his heel and began to stomp onward. You, being attached to him still, followed along.

 

Inwardly gloating, of course.

 

“At least one of the Resistance will have a comms device. We will use that to contact my ship.”

 

More and more you were falling under the impression that the man enjoyed hearing himself talk. He had a good voice, and so you let him without interrupting. Bonus points: it meant he was not scolding you.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Strangely, the mercenary was quieter than he had believed she would be. Now that she was content, the woman was not uttering a single word. Having believed he would prefer this, General Armitage Hux found it unnerving that he _wanted_ her to say something. A simple thanks for handing her the berries. Even when she had used her tongue on that berry—kriff, he had not realized it had been so long since he had indulged in more carnal behaviors until that moment—she had said nothing. Though she had irritated him with her incessant complaining, it had not been an unpleasant voice.

 

He refrained from saying anything further, allowing the female time to reply to him. She did not rise to the occasion. Instead he was greeted with the sounds of rustling leaves. A smaller creature, not one of the predators. It skittered over to one of the trees, climbed up halfway, and then peered over at him. The First Order General spared it a quick glance. Inconsequential. A simple distraction from the Resistance he would kill when at last they came into view.

 

“How are your wounds?” A passive question on his part. It was information he needed in order to successfully counter the Resistance.

 

The answer was not immediate in coming, however the silence _was_ broken four seconds later. “I should be fine for a while longer. I’ll let you know if I need a moment to recuperate.”

 

General Hux nodded then ate the final few berries that he had been holding onto. It was one of the few things he had recognized as being edible. Being unfamiliar with much of this planet would cause numerous complications. This, naturally, was one of the main reasons he wanted to leave. Another was that he knew several officers who would willingly leave him behind if it meant that they secure a promotion. Others would refuse to do so, as it would mean they had to deal with Supreme Leader Snoke and Kylo Ren personally. The cowardice of his subordinates was, on occasion, an asset.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

You heard the sound of a twig snapping the same time that General Hux seemed to. Both of you stiffened, coming to a sudden halt. He turned his head to regard you. You nodded, mouthing that you had heard it as well. Both of you proceeded forward with caution, ever careful to not make a noise that would be heard by—voices could now be heard as well. At least two of the Resistance members. You recognized one of the voices. Not that you had a name for the man. You had never bothered to ask, and you would not when you saw him.

 

Drawing your blaster out from its holster, you ensured that it was set on kill. Hux mimicked your actions. Ideally, the two of you would have separated and gone from two different sides to close in on the pair of Resistance members. Being that you were stuck together, you chose to instead crouch. Different heights would have to do.

 

General Hux angled his body against a tree, meanwhile you genuflected and looked through the scope of your blaster. The two voices you were heard belonged to the only two humans in sight. They were skinning an animal they had caught. Something small. Edible. You licked your lips at the thought of eating the protein.

 

Instead of blasting away like an absolute idiot, you used your scope to survey the layout. There were two visible traps that had been set by the pair. They also each had a blaster. One had a vibroblade at his ankle. No comms device. Neither you nor Hux had to say this aloud. If either of the two Resistance members had had a comms device, their expressions would not be so grim. The damage to the escape pod was evident as well. Shattered glass. It wouldn’t be anything that you could use—except, perhaps, for shelter. A fire. Traps set. A meal. Shelter.

 

You drank this all in, your head bobbing as you nodded. You made a quick gesture with your hand. Blue eyes dropped to your limb. When you indicated that you would aim for the man nearest to the flame, Hux nodded and shifted the nozzle of his weapon. You held up three fingers. Two. One. Twin shots—the two men barely looked up before the blasts hit. Yours tore open a hole in the man’s chest. For General Hux… He had been crueler. A gut shot. The death would be slow. More painful.

 

Here you had been worrying over him biting off an ear…

 

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His companion blinked without tearing her eyes off of the whimpering man he had shot. General Hux, meanwhile, took his eyes off of the suffering individual to instead watch her. With how she had stiffened, he knew that she was weighing his level of cruelty. How merciless he was. She had been cautious from the start. He had a reputation that she had clearly heard of. There were often fine details that were lost from the truth the more stories were told. Elements that got lost in translation. This woman had done her homework on him, which was something he could appreciate.

 

“Come. We can check your wounds while we rest. They have water as well.” Armitage pointed to the man the mercenary had shot. She followed the trail from his finger to the body. He had a canteen on his hip.

 

She rose to her feet and looked at him. There was something empowering about that, the idea that this woman was submitting to him more and more. It was what he was accustomed to in the First Order. Any who disobeyed were dealt with. This was not his typical playing field, but that did not mean he would allow himself to lose.

 

If the mercenary proved to be a good student, he would consider leaving her alive. The betrayal on the part of the Resistance would be a lesson enough.

 

“How much debt are you in?” he asked, not entirely caring about the answer so much as wanting to know if that had been her reason for accepting the job as opposed to the typical motive of greed. Based on how she flinched, wrinkled her nose, and did not respond, he had his answer.

 

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You despised the fact that you had been unable to hold in your reaction to his question. The sore subject left you gritting your teeth and wishing that you could walk far away from the man. You needed breathing room, which you would not be getting with how the pair of you were still attached via the handcuffs. You eyed the restraints for a moment. Your gaze then darted to the two bodies of the fallen Resistance members. Getting out of sticky situations was not _exactly_ your forte, however you did have skills in that area. You tugged at his wrist by moving his arm. General Hux did not protest as you took lead, winding your way past the tall grass and around whatever traps you could see. You paused, surveying the ground, more than once. In this way you avoided one buried trap. The redhead released a small _huh_ of thought when you did so.

 

The first thing you did was kneel by the side of the man who was dead. The other—Hux’s victim—gurgled, small whimpers fading as his time in this world dwindled away. You would have put him out of his misery if you were not entirely certain that General Hux would stop you. Your arm, and the rest of your body, was too sore to endure whatever reaction he’d have.

 

Patting along the pockets of the man, you found yourself disappointed. There was nothing you could use to create a key that would separate you from your former-target. General Hux did not stand idly by. He had moved onto one knee and begun to complete the task of skinning the animal that would serve as your meal. Once done, the man skewered the beast on a stick that had been sharpened. You sat down completely to watch him as he started to cook the food.

 

Your feet did hurt. There was the pulsing sensation of radiating pain and numbness. You took your eyes off of the meat in favor of staring at the boots you were wearing. It would be wise to clean the wounds if there was enough water to spare. Minor cuts could turn into something more deadly if an infection began.

 

“Do you think they’ve contact the rest of the Resistance?” you asked. The silence was beginning to unnerve you, especially given that the other member of the organization had quieted. You had no idea what to do with the bodies—they would not be allowed to stay so close to where the two of you were making camp, not with the creatures that were hunting you able to smell them.

 

General Hux, likely running through the same line of thinking, was staring at the corpse of his victim. “They would be forced to explain how they arrived here. A lie would likely be told…and if they had my head, it would be far more convincing. Don’t delude yourself that we’re the only ones hunting the opposite side. You’re a loose end, and they’ll ensure you are dealt with as surely as they’ll attempt to kill me.”

 

His pessimism was contagious. You found yourself slouching, depression threatening to overtake you. All you wanted to do was pay off the debt that had been your inheritance. That was all. Now you were caught up in the politics of a looming war.

 

Taking a seat beside you, General Hux lifted the canteen and maneuvered the strap so that it left the body. Rather than taking a drink, he handed the container of water to you. You accepted it with both hands, unscrewed the top, and took a sip. You then passed the water to him, and he mimicked your actions prior to sealing the canteen. He gestured to your feet with the same hand that held the container of water. When you failed to react, he verbally asked that you remove your boots. Well, not so much ask as demand. Not in the mood to argue, you complied.

 

“Let me see them.”

 

Again did you oblige. You twisted, setting first one foot then its twin onto his knee. General Hux tilted his head to best look at the minor cuts. His fingers worked open the canteen, and you felt relief flooding through you. He was not a fool who would allow your woods to fester. The man tore part of _your_ shirt rather than his own. You rolled your eyes, huffing in exasperation though not commenting. The noise you released was enough to earn you a scowl. He balled up the material, allowed a minute amount of the liquid to soak into the cloth, and then resealed the canteen before pressing the wet material to your left foot.

 

You jumped at the contact. It stung while at the same time it proved to you just how numb your feet were becoming. The tingling, pulsing sensation had you worried.

 

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General Armitage Hux of the First Order was merciless. Ironically, he had been forced into a position wherein he was obligated to show mercy and compassion with his unwanted companion if he wished to survive. He eyed the mercenary’s feet, the small cuts thereupon. They were not very deep, however the amount totaled a higher count than he had speculated. She had been right to chastise him for not ensuring her feet were protected as they walked.

 

That reminded him that the bodies would have to be dealt with, lest the creatures that had been hunting the female return. It would be a task easier to accomplish if he was not attached to the woman. While she had patted down one body for a means of separating them—he was no fool; he had recognized her intentions for what they were—she had failed to check the other corpse.

 

Hux swiped the cloth downwards, wiping away the filth and dried blood first on one foot and then the other. “Wait one moment.”

 

The other body was near enough that he was able to stretch without having the woman rise to her feet. He grabbed hold of the pants and tugged, exerting himself more than he would have liked, but successfully pulling the body closer. General Hux shoved a hand into the pockets available to him. When he curled his fingers around a loose piece of metal, a smile made its way to his face. He handed this to his companion. She set to work without either of them speaking another word.

 

His blue eyes roamed her fingers. She was quite adept at manipulating things with those digits. His mind traitorously flashed to how she had licked the berry. Averting his gaze, General Hux occupied himself with ensuring the meat did not burn.

 

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You worked open the lock on the handcuffs. The _click_ that signified your release was the most precious thing you had ever heard. You tugged your hands towards your body, massaging the wrist that had been held captive. Beside you, General Hux was rotating his wrist as well. He then reached for the meat, turning it so that the other side would cook evenly.

 

“This will make going to the bathroom easier,” you said, suddenly uncomfortable with the silence. His eyes flicked to your then back to the meat.

 

Being free from the cuffs did not make you free from one another. The pair of you still had to remain together if you wished to survive.

 

“I—“

 

“Ensure that the meat does not burn,” he drawled, cutting you off. You snapped your mouth closed. “I will take care of the bodies.”

 

Without waiting for a response, General Hux stood. He grabbed one body and started to drag it away. You stared after him, wiggling your toes to will away the numbness that was still threatening to take over. The two of you did not make a bad team when you managed to work together. He really _would_ have made a decent partner if he hadn’t been a General of the First Order. Sighing, you rested your elbows on your knees and cupped your face in your hands. The meat would take a little while to cook. Enough time that the bodies would be gone. It would give you time to rest before you once more hunted down the Resistance members that had betrayed you.


	7. Brief Rest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost: A HUGE thank you to RomanticMisadventures for catching the fact that the boots of the Resistance members could be salvaged. That is one thing that I completely slipped my mind. (The vibroblade, I had a note for in my plans for this chapter). This is yet another reason why I love you all. So, again, thank you so much!

 

Brief Rest

 

When returning from having disposed of the first body, General Hux tossed down the boots that the corpse had been wearing. You straightened when you saw them. The redhead also placed torn pieces of cloth—portions that had not been dirtied by blood—nearby. For the second body, he stripped it of its boots first, tossed these in the direction of the others, and finished his looting prior to dragging it away. You once more adjusted the cooking meat, the scent of it awakening your stomach. You frowned when the first gurgles were heard. It was hitting you just how hungry you were. You swore you could eat the entire portion all to yourself.

 

You trailed your tongue across your lips. Eyes narrowed, you started to lean forward. The redhead chose that moment to return. He unsheathed the vibroblade that was in his hand. You tensed, cursing yourself for not having gone for the weapon before he had received the chance. While the two of you were currently aligned with one another, that would change. The moment the Resistance members were dealt with and he got into contact with the First Order, you would be taken prisoner. Possibly executed as well. Your hopes were to gain access to the comms device before the man was able to. Kill the Resistance members. Disarm this man. Get yourself out of this sector of the galaxy. While the two of you each had blasters, he now had an extra weapon. And you? You were still without a helmet because of him.

 

General Hux did not use the weapon on you, nor point it in your direction. He sat beside you, pulling the stick upon which the meat was skewered towards himself. He used the blade to cut the meat, separating it into an equal share. This _did_ surprise you. You had expected him to take a larger portion. Not that you were about to complain. You greedily snatched the food that was offered to you, ignoring the way it burned your hands—not enough to blister, but enough to cause you some discomfort—and sunk your teeth into it. As though wary that you would steal his half if he left it too long, the redhead cut himself off a bite and slipped it into his mouth. He watched you while chewing, his nose wrinkling in disgust over how you were eating. You hardly cared. It wasn’t as though you valued his opinion.

 

“You may choose which pair of boots is more to your liking,” the redhead said between bites. Your eyes darted to the mentioned items. Though it was unnecessary, he continued on, his tone one of boredom as he informed you that he would be taking back his boots. Your mouth filled with some of the meat, you grunted in response.

 

The aches in your body had increased rather than decreased the more time passed by. You knew that the bruises would be starting to show themselves, however your clothing blocked many of those forming contusions from view.

 

Your companion took the canteen from you, sipping a handful of times and then holding out the water for you. Without setting down the last few bites of your food, you grabbed it and filled your mouth with the liquid. “Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” It was a warranted comment, though it still managed to deliver a blow to your pride. “We’re limited on time to rest. The smoke from this fire will no doubt have been seen by the other Resistance members. We will enter the escape pod. I will take first watch. You may have the second. The moment more arrive, I will be dealing with them.”

 

“Being stuck in there may not be wise,” you said, your mouthful of food distorting your words. “At any rate, I should take first watch. I think I’ll be more sore after I rest.”

 

“Very well.” He agreed sooner than you had believed he would. Having been prepared for an argument, your mouth was open. You closed it, nodded, and finished the last bites of the meat. You handed the canteen, which still have some sips of water left, to the man.

 

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As repulsive as the mercenary was, General Armitage Hux had to admit to himself that she was preferable to some of his officers when it came to this situation they were in. His suggestion that they enter the escape pod together had stemmed from wanting to share body heat; it had momentarily slipped his mind that it would place them in even more danger. She was also intelligent enough to know her limitations, the woman recognizing that the injuries she had obtained from their crash landing would only worsen. General Hux drank the remnants of the water; if they did require more, he had seen a small stream when disposing of the bodies. He screwed the cap back on, picked up his shoes, and climbed into the broken escape pod.

 

The vibroblade was secured around his ankle, similar to how the man from the Resistance had had it. Hux smirked to himself when he thought of the envious stare that the mercenary had graced him with upon seeing the blade. She was going to be quite the handful.

 

Being allowed to see her facial expressions made General Hux satisfied with himself that he had destroyed her helmet. She would have been able to conceal the fact that she planned to utilize the comms device for her own purposes rather than allow him to contact the First Order. He would have to watch himself with her. She would steal the blade if given the chance. This was, after all, the mercenary who had managed to best him, to capture him. He took his blaster out of its holster. As much as he hoped to keep her as a temporary ally until after he got in contact with the First Order, he was willing to eliminate any threat on his life.

 

He propped himself up once inside the escape pod. True, he would allow himself to dose off. Yet he would not grow careless. The Resistance members and the mercenary alike would not be allowed to get the better of him.

 

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Remaining out in the open would put an easy target on your back. You tried on each pair of boots, finding the one that best fit and using them. It had not slipped your attention that the vibroblade remained with the redhead. You would need to be more careful. You should have gone for the weapon before General Hux had had the chance. Not that dwelling on the past was going to do you any good here. At this rate, you would have to somehow get into the general’s good graces. Convince him to pay you off—or at least allow you to keep your head. You doubted he was about to forgive you for putting him in this situation.

 

You limped over to one of the trees that had enough foliage to provide you cover. It was away from the traps that the Resistance members had set. You were grateful that those had not been tripped. So long as you were careful, the traps would be useful against the newly deceased’s allies. Or the creatures that had been hunting you. You shuddered at the thought and hoped that they were feasting on the corpses. Perhaps that would satisfy their hunger long enough for you to get further away.

 

It was not as though your accepting this mission had been anything personal. General Hux would likely not feel the same way, even if he did have that obviously inkling that you had a great amount of debt.

 

If you _did_ come clean with him completely, would he show mercy?

 

You were highly skilled at your job. He had to recognize this. Wouldn’t that be something valuable to the First Order? You wrinkled your nose. Not only were you in debt due to your family’s history, but now you had the feeling that you would be owing General Hux a life debt if he did decide to not have you killed. You pursed your lips, bobbing your head from side to side. If you saved his life a handful of times while trapped here on this planet, would that make the two of you even if he did spare your life?

 

Puffing up your cheeks, you angled your blaster in a way that you could look through its scope at your different surroundings. This would have been a nice vacation spot under other circumstances. At this point, you were simply thankful that you had boots of your own. Your feet were sore where they had been cut, and you knew that you would have to allow the injuries to air out when possible. You shifted the blaster, peering through the scope at the shadow General Hux cast. He was covered from many sides, however if anyone managed to sneak up on you, they would be able to kill you and shoot the redhead in the foot. You snorted at the thought.

 

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The sound of twig snapping into pieces startled him awake. As silently as he could, General Hux drew his feet closer to his body and leaned to where he was better able to peer out through the broken windshield of the escape pod. The mercenary winced when she noticed him looking, and mouthed an apology. He grunted in response. Then started to wonder how long he had slept for. It had not been a deep sleep; enough to recuperate from the crash so that he could remain focused. For the time being, that was enough. Another twig snapped as his current companion took another step in his direction. He noticed the limp immediately.

 

“How are you wounds?” He gestured to her feet.

 

The mercenary paused, a look of confusion crossing her features. She was rather intriguing. Good at her job. Kriff, she was _damn_ good at her job. “I think I injured my leg in the crash. The muscle in my thigh… It’s cramping up, that’s all. My feet sting a little. Nothing to worry over.”

 

He knew better than to think that she was minimizing her injuries. That would hardly do either of them any good. General Hux nodded in acceptance of her words. He gestured with his hand, waving her closer. She limped over to him, tensing when he set a hand on the thigh that was injured. He felt the knot immediately. With another grunt, he asked her to sit beside him. Armitage shifted over when she allowed herself to collapse next to him, nearly on top of him. He gripped the thigh with both hands. She released a small moan of pain. Her voice was pleasant, he thought to himself as he began to work his fingers, lessening the knot that would slow them down.

 

“Are you sore at all?” It was the first time she had sounded shy to him. He could easily get used to that sort of hesitancy from her. Not wanting to be babied by her, or endure any gloating that she may put up as a front, General Hux shook his head. “I…” She pursed her lips into a pout. He could see the signs that she was attempting to swallow her pride. It was something he greatly appreciated.

 

As she spoke, pausing between sentences and glowering at him as though challenging him to belittle her, General Hux found himself more interested in the tales of her debt than he had believed he would be. His own past had been riddled with issues stemming from family. His father. Making a name for himself, surpassing his father—he had managed all of that. The financial debt this mercenary was in threatened to put all that to shame when one tried to compare. He now readily understood her choice to pursue him. Though he could not keep back the snort when she revealed how much the Resistance members had offered to pay her. That should have been a red flag, he thought.

 

“The Resistance is hardly honorable. What should you expect from an organization that even the New Republic frowns upon.”

 

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You recognized the gloating nature of his words. It wasn’t against _you_ , however, that the insult had been aimed. This man was the general of the First Order, and he loathed the Resistance. Of course he’d be pleased to hear that they were doing things to gain a poor reputation. Given that you held no bias one way or the other, you allowed him the chance to smugly smirk. It wasn’t as though you were particularly fond of the Resistance members currently on the planet with you.

 

“Is the First Order better in paying?” you asked, unable to hold yourself back. His smirk grew into a sly grin. “I want to live.”

 

“I may be willing to ignore our history…if you prove useful with eliminating the other Resistance scum. The First Order does have need for mercenaries. And you… You have a debt to pay.” You nodded, bobbing your head and scanning your eyes along his face. Confidence looked good on him.

 

That, or it was true what they said about uniforms.

 

“I haven’t heard any of them. We should leave, though. I can rest later. I’ve gone several days without sleep when hunting down a job.” You could not stop yourself from glancing briefly at the vibroblade. “They’ll be tracking the smoke.”

 

General Hux rose first, walked out of the escape pod, and kicked dirt onto the fire. You moved out to join him, pocketing anything useful from the pile that the redhead and made prior to taking his nap. With the handcuffs off, it was easier to get along with him.

 

It was that, or he likely already had a job in mind for you to accomplish when all of this was done. Only then would he consider killing you. You would be ready for that, what with this recent betrayal from the Resistance.

 

“Is your blaster… Encrypted to your finger, right?”

 

“Correct.”

 

“Did you check their blasters?”

 

“Of course. Those were encrypted as well. And I’d rather not carry around severed fingers if I don’t have to.”

 

Without realizing what you were doing, you cupped a hand to your ear, rubbing the outer shell. This guy had a penchant for dismembering people, didn’t he?

 

“Let’s get moving.” Your limp had lessened following the quick massage. You trailed along behind him, always listening for the rustling of grass that would indicate the creatures or the Resistance. “I don’t want to be caught without a proper shelter when night falls.”

 

An escape pod that didn’t have shattered windows, he meant. Even if he managed to get in contact with the First Order before the day was out, it would take them time to arrive on planet. The creatures would be hunting, would have had plenty of time to regroup. More would come for you when they finished feasting on the bodies of your enemies.

 

“Me neither,” you mumbled.


	8. Food Chain

 

Food Chain

 

His hair was disheveled, which would normally annoy him beyond all measure. Appearances meant a lot to him, partly due to his upbringing and the words he had endured from his father, and partly due to his military standing. In this current situation, his hair was the least of his worries. That did not stop him from noticing the way he had to brush aside some of the stray strands. His companion was unable to suppress her grin when again he pushed aside some of those red hairs. Armitage felt his nostrils flare with an indignant huff. Since she had confided in him about her debt—and how it had happened that she became the individual who had successfully captured him—he had found himself pondering what uses she could be. If it came down to it, he was willing to kill her. Appearances _were_ important, and he had no desire to make it seem as though attempts on his life were acceptable. That being said, he would be true to his word in allowing himself to see if she proved worthy of forgiveness. A debt as large as the one she had could drive people to do rather unsavory things.

 

One thing he did enjoy was the fact that he did not need to explain to her why it was important for there to be as little conversation as possible. They were both listening for signs of their enemies. General Armitage Hux, while he did not want to die, would prefer to be murdered by this mercenary over being killed by anyone in the Resistance, the loathsome thing that it was. He did not wish for them to have that sort of satisfaction.

 

As they walked, he found himself reminiscing over the look she had had on her face when he had delivered the gut shot to the Resistance scum. It caused him to wonder how she preferred to kill in general, what methods she would use to kill him. A headshot, perhaps? With the way she had eyed the vibroblade, perhaps she would slit his throat if given the chance.

 

He did not allow his mind to wander for too long; he did, after all, have to remain aware of his surroundings if he wanted to live. Not fantasize over how the mercenary would kill him. Maker, he was going to drive himself insane if he did not get into contact with the First Order soon. Or at least murder all those wretched Resistance who were on this planet. General Hux scowled. In the corner of his eye, he caught the expression of confusion that was on his companion’s face. He offered her a dismissive shrug then busied himself with adjusting his grip on the blaster that was in his hands.

 

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The moment you saw the redhead shifting his weapon, you readied yours. You dropped down to one knee and took aim in the direction you had heard the rustling coming from. Boot steps. They were too loud—and clumsy—to belong to animals. Couple that with a swear followed by a _shh_ , and you were dead certain that there were at least two Resistance members in that direction. You idly wondered if General Hux would shoot to maim rather than kill as he had with the other. While part of you wanted to object, you couldn’t help but think that the creatures that hunted you would find pleasure instead going after the injured prey. It was a horrid thought, you told yourself.

 

You startled at the sound of blasterfire, not having expected your companion to shoot so soon. The _thud_ in the distance indicated that he had hit _something_. This was followed by the noises of scrambling. A blaster bolt barely missed your shoulder. _Kriff!_ You clenched your jaw, dropping down further so that you were on your belly. This was a position General Hux had already achieved.

 

A pained groan that soon became a gurgle served as an answer to your unspoken question. He _was_ aiming to inflict a painful death on those he hunted. Hux fired off another three shots before you managed to shoot for the first time. You were off your game, a fact that worsened your irritable mood. The man beside you was not being entirely reckless like you wanted to accuse him of. He _knew_ what he was doing. That frustrated you all the more, especially when you heard the sick, wet sound of his next shot meeting flesh. A cry of pain in unison with a blast going several feet to your left told you that General Hux had managed to sever a limb or else injure the Resistance man in a way that had him dropping the blaster mid-shot.

 

“Save your weapon,” the man hissed at you. You withdrew your finger from the trigger, your bottom lip quivering. You were not used to be chastised, not accustomed to aligning yourself with a sadist. Before you had the opportunity to say anything to the man, General Hux pulled the trigger once more. Another yelp of pain, a sob. Then, a different voice—the first Resistance member Hux had managed to get—begging for his ally to just shoot him. End the pain quickly. Your heart leapt into your throat when the general of the First Order rushed forward. To ensure they could not end their lives more quickly. You knew this. You knew this, and it had you wondering how the hell you had allowed yourself to be put into the situation.

 

There was not enough debt in the universe that would have you willing to put yourself into this situation. If it weren’t for the creatures, you would have run away right then and there. Taken your chances when it came to encountering any of the remaining Resistance.

 

Knowing that General Hux would not allow you to show any signs of mercy towards the injured Resistance by giving them quicker deaths, you remained where you were. You knew that he was not only ridding them of their blasters, but taking anything of use as well. A yelp indicated that one of the injured had attempted to fight back. Or perhaps the redhead simply increased the damage for sport. You wrinkled your nose. You had taken jobs of assassination in the past. _Never_ had you accepted a job that required torture. Not this kind of torture at least. Interrogations, yes. This? This was barbaric. There was nothing the general could gain from this other than sick satisfaction, demented pleasure.

 

They should have included this in his file. More than what they had. Unless… They had to know, right? Or has no one ever placed the general in this position before? He could be lashing out due to that.

 

It was no excuse, you told yourself, for the behavior.

 

You found yourself glowering at the man as he returned to you. General Hux quirked a single brow, rotating his wrist back and forth so that the vibroblade in his hand bounced a little from side to side. Your stare dropped to the weapon then his leg. This one was a newly acquired blade. It was difficult to tell if he was toying with the idea of handing you the weapon, or if he was simply boasting that he had more at his disposal. “They’re still alive, aren’t they?” you asked despite that the groans of pain and curses of the redhead’s name were proof enough that the inquiry need not have been asked. “This definitely isn’t what I signed up for.”

 

“Really? Me neither,” General Hux said, his tone both conversational and dismissive at the same time. You flicked your gaze away from him only to offer your full attention when he pressed the handle of the vibroblade into your hand. “That being said, _I_ wish to live. The creatures will be drawn to their cries. A win-win.”

 

 _Maybe for_ you, you thought bitterly. Outwardly, you nodded, accepting the weapon and stashing it away for later use. “Do you think the others will?”

 

“They may be. That’s not my main concern. I plan on determining if the escape pod they came here in works still, if it’s any use to us. There was no comlink on their persons. I somehow doubt there will be one in the pod. But you _do_ need to rest your leg. It seems to be cramping up again.”

 

You hated that he had noticed. The knot he had worked out during your rest had already started to make itself known again. The injury to the muscle was something that made it to where you should have been on bed rest at least for a day. You hoped that this did not cause any long term damage. Gesturing with your hand, you indicated for him to once more lead the way. General Hux did not waste any time in obliging. The sooner you left, the better. The creatures would be able to scent the blood, not to mention hear the cries of the injured.

 

As you walked, you rubbed some of the soreness out of your leg. “Next time…warn before you shoot.”

 

“You should always be prepared to be fired upon,” the man drawled. You wanted to take your newly acquired vibroblade and throw it at the back of his head. You managed to hold down this urge, opting to instead roll your eyes and sigh exasperatedly. “Besides, you did not get shot. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

 

“It was pure luck that kept that blast from hitting me.” With another huff, you tried a new route. “Look, I agreed to follow your lead. You’re proving to be a shitty-ass leader if you think it’s okay to place me in danger. I’m _not_ one of your stormtroopers.”

 

“No. You’re a mercenary.” He said it as though it were worse than scum. You twitched, shuddering the next moment as you at last understood what sort of pleasure could be taken by shooting someone—not to kill, but to maim. Punching him in the face would be equally pleasant. Kriff, why were you in this situation again? “I can _hear_ your death wishes for me.”

 

“I’ve always wanted to be near a mindreader,” you snapped. “You’re so skilled, General Hux.” He shot an amused grin over his shoulder. You relaxed a little. Clearly he relied on cold, calculated behavior. It wasn’t personal…even if you got shot. “Just…some sort of warning, please.”

 

“If it’s possible, I will attempt to remember.”

 

“…is that a comment on your memory, or you stating that you have little self-control? Faulty memory or trigger-happy… Not very good options.” This time he snorted then barked out a rich laugh. He paused in his steps so that you came closer to him. The pat on your shoulder made you feel like one of his officers…that was a step up, you had to admit.


	9. This Stinks

 

This Stinks

One of the worst parts about being placed into these types of situations—aside from the obvious, you’re being hunted by creatures and enemies, of course—was the smell. You needed to bathe, however there was not time nor soap to do so. Your current partner in crime reeked as well. The two of you squished together in the recently located escape pod? You wondered if a lit match mixed with the fumes would cause an explosion. That was likely an exaggeration, yet your mind was providing you with cartoonish renditions of such an event. Which was nice, considering it meant a distraction from the way General Hux’s hands were on you, again working out the knots in your muscles. It was for survival purposes. The thing was, though, that his hands were _nice_. Or his touch was at any rate. He also seemed to be lingering, slowing his progress, whenever his fingers shifted closer to your crotch. You were uncertain if this was due to him being hesitant as a gentleman, or if he was considering what it would feel like to _truly_ touch you.

 

While the man was attractive, it was not only the stench coming from the two of you that prevented you from experiencing true arousal. You could not help but remember his merciless actions. You _did_ understand them, their intent. And they were, in a way, intelligent given the circumstances. That did not mean you enjoyed them. _He_ , on the other hand, _did_ derive pleasure from being merciless. Not that you actually expected anything less from Brendol Hux’s offspring.

 

You set your hand atop his, shoving at it gently so that he withdrew. General Hux grunted as he leaned his back against the wall of the escape pod. The two of you had already agreed on the duration of the rest period prior to when he had started to rub your leg. Before he had entered the escape pod with you, the man had also excused himself long enough to—well, you were assuming he had gone somewhere to relieve himself. You had utilized that time to take care of yourself as well, which is when you had first started to notice the smell. When it was amplified by the escape pod, you had started to sulk. Now here you were, still dismayed and wondering whether or not you could trust that the redhead wouldn’t have you murdered the moment the First Order came to retrieve him.

 

What a mess you were in! You cursed all the generations before you who had racked up the debt.

 

In the corner of your eye, you caught movement. Your gaze jerked in the direction of your current companion, which allowed you to see that he was rubbing at his shoulders with his hands while rolling his neck. He was sore, likely from the crash landing. The man was too prideful to admit it, however. He probably always lived with a mild case of paranoia. Weaknesses, no matter how small, used against him. You knew that he would frown if you brought attention to his present state. You didn’t care enough to not though. Sure enough, General Hux scowled when you asked if he would like you to ‘take care that’ whilst gesturing to his shoulders with a wave of your hand.

 

Despite the expression, he half-turned in a silent acceptance of your offer. Your eyebrows rose as surprise grabbed at you. Having expected him to reject or protest, you found yourself awkwardly drawing closer to the man. Your heart pounded in your ears, and you could not stop running your eyes along his body.

 

Stars, the two of you made a dumpster seem like potpourri.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

In truth, he did appreciate the offer extended; and that was why he had accepted it despite the fact that he would have preferred to not be in such a situation. Admitting to weakness could help one grow. However, it also generally meant that others had noticed and were plotting. To kill you, to surpass you in rank. That the remaining Resistance on this planet _were_ hunting him did not place him in any sort of mood that would allow him to dismiss these facts. While the mercenary began to knead the knots in his shoulders—she was quite good at that—Armitage considered which of his plans would be implemented. Using her as bait to lure the others closer… No. They would shoot her on sight, and he still had yet to make up his mind as to how he would use her. Given a steady income, she would be open to aligning herself with the First Order. Although she was also rightly paranoid that he would double-cross her due to the circumstances of their meeting.

 

Remaining holed up in the escape pod until the others arrived in search of their comrades. He would blaster their kriffing faces off. Unless they shot first, blowing up the vessel. It was the argument the mercenary had had in regards to them resting in the previous escape pod together. Expending too much energy hunting down the others while also dealing with the creatures that were in turn seeking out—well, everyone, he thought with an inward snort—would not be wise. The remaining vessels would need to be located. If the other escape pod had a working communications device, it was entirely possible that the Resistance members would remain with it until they were picked up. Hux scowled at the idea that the Resistance would arrive.

 

Oh, if he could contact the First Order before that occurred, it would help in destroying more of them. If, on the other hand, the Resistance arrived and retrieved its members as well as any device that would allow him to contact his army…

 

“You should have your medics check out your neck when the First Order picks us up,” the woman said as her fingers skimmed over said area. Armitage wrinkled his nose, discomfort blossoming in the form of pain and the sensation of a muscle tightening. He had pulled something there. He doubted that it was a tear. A moment later, his mind registered fully what she had said. A willingness to accept him as her ally. _Picks **us** up_. Her suggestion that he took care of himself.

 

“Is that fondness I detect?” he teased, silently cursing himself for having a genuine interest in her response.

 

Her hands left his body, a sort of strangled noise leaving her. General Hux turned around and allowed his eyes to sweep along her face. “It smells in here.” A change in topic, but also a rather true statement. “I’m not fond of any of this.” Her eyebrows drew towards one another, as though she was unable to understand why he had brought up such a thing.

 

Armitage snorted. “It’s a decent ice breaker before I bring up the fact that we need to locate the other escape pod. We don’t have the luxury of wasting time. Yet we also need to devise a plan.”

 

“You want to use me as a distraction, don’t you?” She was glowering at him, gritting her teeth. He could not say that he blamed her. He did appreciate that she had caught on easily. It allowed for him to skip over the unpleasantness of mentioning the suggestion aloud.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

It caught you off guard, the way his eyes pinched at the corners as you glared at him. You were under the impression that a part of him did _not_ want to use you as bait. While the two of you had only just recently met, you believed that this was different than General Hux normally felt about others. He probably did not care about their well-being. It was due to him wanting to survive, that was all; or, at least, that’s what you were trying to tell yourself. And while the stench from your body and his kept you from having too physical of a reaction to his massaging your thigh, it did not stop your mind from replaying how it had felt.

 

Realizing that you were staring at him, and that he had not bothered to verbally respond to you, you cleared your throat. “They already tried to kill me. I don’t think they’d hold their fire the moment they saw me.”

 

“Yes. That is why I was hesitant to suggest it. But we do need to think of _something_. Do you happen to have a better plan?” You shook your head, although you also attempted to think of a different approach to the situation at hand. He was right. The two of you had to get to the other escape pod. If it had a working communications device, then… You did some quick calculations in your head. Depending on where the nearest Resistance shuttle was, contact could have already been made. Would they even attempt to find their other comrades, or would they simply allow life to run its course? Chance. If the others found them, fine. If they didn’t, also fine. Given your history with them, you were under the impression that these weren’t the sort of people you’d want on your side.

 

 _They’re pretty much the Resistance version of Hux_ , you thought while running your gaze along said man. He had started to rub at his neck again. You noticed him wince. Just like you, he would only grow more sore as time wore on. That would put the Resistance at even more of an advantage.

 

“Do you think you’d actually be able to cover me if it _does_ come down to me being bait?” There was no immediate response from the man, which allowed you to know that he was considering the situation entirely. Good, you thought, no false bravado.

 

General Hux gave a wave of his hand. “In the right circumstances, that should hardly be an issue. I would prefer we take them by surprise.”

 

“Okay…how?” He slow-blinked at you, reminding you of a tooka. Apparently he hadn’t gotten quite that far in his planning. “We should have grabbed the clothes of your victims.”

 

“Mm. Except the blood would have attracted those creatures much sooner.” A valid point, once more. “We should focus on locating the escape pod. We will keep out of sight and discuss the next step at that point. With any luck on our side, they’ll have been injured or killed on impact.”

 

You would have told him that luck _hadn’t_ been on your side for quite a while, however you didn’t want to break his heart and have to deal with a sulking ally. So you simply nodded, rolled your shoulders, and waited until he moved past you before starting to rise from where you had been sitting. Your leg felt better, or at least not so stiff as it had been before. Following General Hux was easier now. You winced as you thanked him for the massage. The redhead looked over his shoulder at you, his eyes dropping down to your thigh. Just as his hands hand lingered, so did his gaze. It made you feel a little self-conscious. You hated that. You did not want to feel shy, not around him. Especially not around _him_. He was ruthless. He had destroyed your helmet.

 

He was _much_ quicker than you remembered. That, or you were too distracted. General Hux was mere inches away from your face. Your heart began to race in your chest, both of your hands covering either of your ears. That did not stop his laughter from registering; it only muffled the sound until you, your face hot with embarrassment, dropped your hands back to your sides.

 

“I thought you were getting ready to pass out.”

 

“You were going to catch me?”

 

“No.” You frowned at this, feeling foolish that you had asked. His smirk wasn’t cruel this time though. That was a nice change. “I wouldn’t want to throw out my back. I was going to attempt to wake you.”

 

 _Always so logical_ , you thought, shoving away the mental picture of him sweeping you up into his arms. This place was slowly but surely making you lose your mind. “Let’s just get going.” As you moved to step past him, General Hux set a hand on your upper arm. “Hmm?”

 

“Don’t forget… I did carry you already.” You suddenly wondered if that was why the pain in his neck was as bad as it was. Then had to contain your laughter. He returned your amused grin with one of his own. It was more appealing than that arrogant smirk he often wore. “Of course, you were far less smelly then.” You bit down on the insides of your cheek to keep from grinning like a fool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter should be when we at last get to the escape pod. But will there be a communication's device!? I don't know! (I do know)


	10. Alliance Growth

 

Alliance Growth

 

There were occasional flickers of green-brown that entered your line of sight, most often in your peripheral. You were able to notice them more when there were breaks in the foliage. The creatures were stalking you and General Hux, which was why the two of you had your blasters in hand. That, and the ever-present possibility that you would run into the remaining Resistance members. In this case, you would not be entirely opposed to using your opponents as a means of getting rid of the creatures’ attentions. You did not want to be attacked. Even if they did not manage to kill you outright, any injury could prove to be the death of you in the long run. Should it handicap you enough that you were disabled, you would have those who held the debt over your head on your doorstep. General Hux would probably leave you to rot on this Maker-forsaken planet. You wouldn’t be of any use to him.

 

Mere minutes ago you had learned of the blades he had up his sleeves; the man had handed you one, solidifying that he was intent on keeping you alive—even if his reasons were likely selfish, although you were no better in that respect. Survival was important to you. The blade was within reach. You favored the blaster due to power and accuracy. Readjusting your grip on the weapon, you caught the moment one of the creatures jerked a step towards the left, as though retreating from you. It was ready to move out of range at any given moment, simultaneously prepared to lunge for you if you fumbled with your weapon. General Hux muttered under his breath for you to not waste any of the blaster’s power. It wasn’t that he believed you were an idiot. The man seemed well-versed in survival. You supposed that his training had fed him the information; as to whether or not he had ever been in such a situation, you did not know.

 

One of those reptilian tongues slipped out from the mouth of the creature nearest to your companion. Another of the things released a noise that sounded quite like a cackle. It had you shuddering and wondering what sort of devils these were.

 

It felt as though they were shepherding you along. When you remarked on this, General Hux glanced your way then allowed his gaze to travel to the beasts. They had not yet made a move to attack. This further proved that they were familiar with the weapons, with human beings or at least sentient beings. “They’ve likely had a run-in with the last group. It’s almost as though they know we have a common enemy. Once we take care of the others, they’ll attack.”

 

“Kriff, that’s creepy.” You grit your teeth together, your face twisting with a snarl. The redhead grunted in reply, a sort of agreement with your assessment. “At least we know we’re headed in the right direction, I guess.” It was a poor consolation. The fact that you would have to deal with both enemies back-to-back, or perhaps simultaneously, did not sit well with you.

 

General Hux was far from pleased as well, if the low growl that escaped him was any indication. He scowled whilst glancing at another of the creatures, which moved into view. You could not tell how many of them there were. When you asked your companion the amount he had counted, he responded with _at least seven_. Your poor mood soured all the more at that. Not that you allowed your disappointment to distract you. You were on alert, listening for noises other than what the creatures were making. Human noises.

 

The pair of you were walking at a more leisurely pace in order to keep down the sounds from your own movements. Not to mention, it would allow you to catch most traps that might be set. Caution was a necessity.

 

The first thing that your senses were able to pick up was not sound, but smell. Electricity had a scent all its own. Coupled with a burning fire, it had a strong odor that brought to mind the memory of a wreckage. Worry crept into you. That the final escape pod was damaged far more than any of the others hand been. That the creatures were only pretending to lead you towards another enemy, that they were feigning caution. Perhaps their plan was to corner the two of you. Cut off any escape. If they had already visited the wreck, they would have an advantage. These suspicions did not last very long. The second thing you became aware of _was_ sound. Bursts of static. Your heart leapt into your throat at that. At least a part of the escape pod was functional.

 

You met the redhead’s gaze. He gave an almost imperceptible nod, which indicated that the two of you should pause. As you did so, you gripped your blaster more tightly, prepared to kill any of the creatures should they at last lunge. They did not. Their cackles grew, two of the beasts growling in what you believed was frustration and impatience.

 

“Do you think they’re alive?” you asked, keeping your voice down in case your enemies were alive and in a position that they could hear you. Just because the pod had survived, it did not mean those aboard were so lucky.

 

“Yes. The vessel would have exploded by now if there weren’t any present to take care of it. They’re repairing it…or perhaps the communications device. It would be best to see. If they are working on such repairs, it may be wise to hold off killing them until they’re finished. I’d rather not risk destroying what may very well be our only chance off this kriffing hell hole of a planet.”

 

You turned your head, stared at the creature that was nearest to you, and nodded. You felt exactly the same. You wanted to get off this planet. Maker, you were more than willing to join this man as more than a temporary ally if the First Order would have you. No amount of debt was worth all of this trouble. You’d have to buy a new ship, new supplies, secure a place to recuperate, remind yourself to never trust Resistance members again. If General Hux had not been willing to possibly let the fact that you had captured him slide, you would also have made a very powerful enemy. The more time you had to think about what an alliance with him meant, the more you realized that it was one of the few ways you could reasonably survive in this galaxy.

 

“If we survive this,” you began, continuing to keep your voice low as you angled your blaster so that if you fired, it would hit the beast that was stalking forward—the thing paused, its growl accentuated by its menacing snarl—“is… Do you think you would actually hire me?”

 

“You’ve already lost everything when you were my enemy,” the man said, quirking a single eyebrow. The verbal blow stung worse than if he had simply slapped you across the face. “I offer you a chance to regain your footing? Given that you were willing to pay off a debt that wasn’t your own, I would bet that your loyalty would be secured.” A fair assessment. “You obviously do your research when you’re given a target. You are not the first individual to attempt to capture me. However, you are the only one who has yet succeeded.”

 

There was no venom in his voice when he spoke. You enjoyed the praise, although you did what you could to prevent this from showing on your face. The fact was, you were so used to being alone on a mission or looking over your shoulder that you did not often receive the chance to socialize. Not that this was necessarily the most appropriate setting—you looked the creature that was in the process of laying down. The muscles in its legs were taut, the thing ready to spring upwards if an opening for it was made.

 

“These beasts won’t be patient for much longer.” His words echoed your thoughts. You nodded, at the same time starting to look for a means of getting closer to the Resistance without them seeing you. And also without giving the beasts that opening they were so looking for.

 

You crossed in front of him with your next step. General Hux maneuvered so that his back was against yours. Several of the creatures were moving closer then drawing back. Testing the waters. Ready to go in for the kill. They wanted you close enough to their other prey. The walk had likely fueled their appetite.

 

 _That’s just great_ , you thought while taking aim. Your finger was against the trigger, however you did not pull it. Doing so would alert your other enemies to your presence. Your companion was correct in that the communications device would need to be in working order. If the Resistance realized their enemy was closing in, they could possibly destroy the device. Or not, you thought, taking into account how selfish they were. They had hired you and then attempted to have you killed. You could be their scapegoat when they summoned their allies. Place all the blame on you and General Hux. Besides, they’d probably attempt to kill you and Hux in hopes that the creatures would not attack them. Possibly they would then move to kill the beasts while your body and your companion’s were being torn limb from limb.

 

 _That’s not a very pleasant mental image, brain,_ you told yourself. You were walking forward again, careful to make as little noise as possible. The crackle of static burst echoed more loudly. This time it didn’t fizzle out as you had been hearing. An elbow to your back informed you that General Hux had heard the noise as well. There was no time to waste. Not only due to the beasts now; it was imperative that you not allow the Resistance to contact their allies. You rushed forward when another bump from the man urged you into action. He spun around and was at your side. He flung an arm backwards, firing at the first creature to launch itself in your direction. The bolt hit the side of the beast’s face, maiming it and causing it to release a loud yelp.

 

Now voices could be heard. The Resistance would not know it was their enemies closing in until they caught sight of you. General Hux knew this as well; neither of you were speaking at this point. If your enemies saw the creatures before they noticed who you were, they would possibly take out a few of them.

 

There was a firm grip on your arm a split-second before you were pushed down to the ground. General Hux was down on one knee, a blaster shot hitting the creature that had been aiming for him. Your eyes followed the trajectory path, pausing on the man who had broken through the foliage. Your enemy. He spared only the briefest of glances at you then aimed for another beast. There were ten of the creatures circling the three of you. It would be foolish for any of you to take aim at one another.

 

And so your unwanted allies—this one likely on a very short-term basis—grew in number.

 

 _At least_ , you thought as you rolled up onto your knees and fired at a creature that was in the Resistance member’s blindspot, _we found the escape pod and a working communications device_.

 

“It seems their hunger has won out,” General Hux drawled. The other man presented snorted prior to swearing under his breath.

 

“These kriffing sleemos have killed two of us.”

 

“Out of?”

 

“Five.” A quick pause as he shot at another of the creatures. “I take it you’ve killed others.”

 

You almost missed the response, focused on shooting as you were. “It’s just the four of us left. I’d have shot you otherwise.” Meaning you were not the only one who had realized that the growing number of the creatures meant an alliance was necessary.

 

“I really hate you all,” you groaned.


	11. Finding the Middle Ground

 

Finding the Middle Ground

 

The words of the Resistance member flowed through your head as were forced to dodge one of the creatures that had managed to circle around. There had been _five_ , the man had said, before the creatures had killed two. His calculation of _four_ , therefore, was off. Unless… Something else had claimed the life of the third. Perhaps the other had sustained injuries in the crash landing that had refused to heal. Poisonous food? You were only passively curious, and could not allow yourself to become _too_ distracted by such musings. The beasts were foaming at the mouth, froth splashing on the ground. The scent of blood pooling from their fallen comrades was sending them into a frenzy.

 

One gnashed its teeth at General Hux before grabbing at the flesh of the nearest corpse. The things did not look starved to you. The animosity that was building in them after they had practically led you and the redhead to this place had you growing more and more nervous. It was as though they were afraid of something and wanted to rush to grab you. Not the blasters that they shied away from either. Was it something in nature—a larger beast, for example—or was there a nearby settlement of hunters? In the case of the latter, your mind conjured up images of said hunters maiming one of the Resistance members.

 

You decided it would be foolish to _not_ question it at this point. “What killed the third?” you asked. Your hands were shaking enough to where your aim was not as accurate as it could be. Maker, you were kriffing exhausted and sore. Though you, Hux, and the other man had managed to take down three of the creatures, another four had made themselves known. It was nearly a blessing that some were content to consume the flesh of their deceased pack mates.

 

“Oh, you caught that?” the man spat. You were unsure if the presence of the beasts was the main reason for his tone. Doubted it. There was no love lost, however, and so you failed to comment on it. “The locals were considering a deal with us. If it wasn’t for the lie that we had contacted a larger ship that would kill them, we’d all have been butchered. They want the communications device. I just _bet_ they’re waiting for these things to kill us then take everything for themselves.”

 

 _Oh, look, the locals had the same idea Hux had_ , you thought with a sardonic grin. This was something that the Resistance member was unable to see, his back to you after he tuck-and-rolled out of the way of two of the creatures. The beasts smacked into one another. The larger of the pair sunk its teeth into the leg of the smaller, a quick, warning bite of dominance that had the other yelping and backing away.

 

Whatever the case, you thought, you were grateful that it had not been you and Hux who had had that run-in with the locals. You did not know if they were human or a different species, and you did not care to ask. All that was irrelevant.

 

And distracting. You swore under your breath. The creature’s claw had raked the flesh of your upper arm. A small scratch, but enough of an impact to knock you forward. The Resistance member blasted away the beast’s face. You stared at the gore with wide eyes. You were panting, shoulders rising and falling heavily with every breath you managed to suck into your lungs.

 

“Ah, you got injured in the crash, didn’t you?” It would have been foolish to think this would have escaped his attention. Still, you had hoped that it would be later rather than sooner that it occurred to him. “That’ll be useful once this alliance is dissolved.”

 

Well wasn’t this guy just a stack of roses heaped up on bantha poodoo.

 

Grumbling under your breath, you managed to right yourself and fire another shot. General Hux ducked under one of the creatures. He blasted a second in the face while using his other hand to drive a blade into the gut of the one he had dodged. You were feeling all the more proud of yourself that you had managed to best the man. Very accomplished. Even if it had led to this, seeing him in action and knowing that you had outsmarted him in a way? It was enough to boost your adrenaline, which blocked off some of the pain signals. You moved more easily now.

 

“Follow me back. They may hit a few traps.”

 

If it wasn’t for the fact that it was still better for him to keep the two of you alive than kill you, you would not have gone along with this plan. Maker, you hated these men. Despite your growing contempt, you did not object and immediately began to walk backwards to follow along after him. On each occasion that you were forced to glance over your shoulder so that you could avoid any hidden traps, you felt your heart beating all the more quickly. It would give the creatures an opening to attack you. General Hux was mimicking your actions, which resulted in the three of you all being closer together. Blocking one another’s aim to some degree.

 

They were careful, quick learners. The beasts stalked after you, their movements slowed and more cautious. That did not mean they failed to hit any of the traps. The first one maimed the leg of a creature, which caused the other beast that was nearest to it to grab hold of its neck. The Resistance member took aim over your shoulder, the bolt’s trajectory _barely_ above where it would have hit both you and General Hux. You felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, your ear beginning to ring. The kriffing sleemo!

 

The next growl that you heard was not from the beasts. It was General Hux.

 

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Truth be told, Armitage Hux was far from surprised that the Resistance member had been so careless. Judging by how loud the shot had been in _his_ ear, he was aware that the mercenary was suffering all the more. As to why there was the sudden urge to defend her, he could not explain. It went deeper than the need for survival. He was coming to enjoy her company. As he had informed her, she had not been the first one to hunt him. Though his men were loyal to him, there were those who would, given the chance, kill him to gain power. Having an ally such as this mercenary—that is to say, one outside of the First Order hierarchy—could very well prove to give him a rather large advantage in the long run. It was why he had proposed giving her a job, aligning with her once they were free of this planet.

 

“Careless moves like that and our alliance will be dissolved before either side is ready,” he snapped. A strangled noise escaped the other man. He wanted to bite back, to say something to argue. Hux was pleased that the Resistance member was intelligent enough to hold his tongue.

 

General Hux wove his way past the traps. Some were visible, and others he would have missed if not for the individual playing role of guide. He glanced at the mercenary to find that she was brandishing the blade he had previously given to her. It caught the jaw of a beast that had managed to make its way to her despite the fact that a trap had claimed half of its left rear leg. Armitage was glad that he had decided to offer her that extra weapon.

 

“Are you still able to hear?” How he was capable of keeping his tone level in that moment surprised even him. There were only a handful of occasions that he had genuinely cared enough about someone’s well-being beyond a mission. This merc truly was growing on him. She muttered out a _yeah_ that caused his lips to quirk. She could take quite a beating, couldn’t she? He found himself impressed once more. “Good.”

 

.

 

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.

 

You were beginning to believe that the man who had once been your target was starting to like you. This was, of course, good news seeing as how he was the individual who had offered you a job. You would be a mercenary still. Not forced to officially join the First Order. You could do that. You _loved_ the idea of having a somewhat more steady pay than you had had in the past. Plus, you _needed_ the credits. If you were extra lucky, you could perhaps also receive a ship from the man as well. A good start. Just—you observed another of the creatures fall victim to a trap.

 

The other Resistance member was shakily holding a weapon whilst leaning against the entrance of the escape pod. Shuffling backwards and looking in his direction, you noted that his other arm was dangling at a somewhat awkward angle. Broken. It now made more sense as to why there had been pleasure in regards to your current state.

 

With a barrier of traps between you and most of the creatures, you found yourself able to relax a little. Not too much though. A handful of the beasts successfully dodged the trap. You, along with Hux and the two Resistance, took down these few.

 

Some of the others laid down where they were. Buying time. More began to eat their fallen pack mates. They were greedy for sustenance. “Kriff.”

 

General Hux did not lower his weapon despite turning away from the creatures. He strode over to the broken-armed man, and you followed him. “You aren’t going to contact the Resistance. Too many questions involved. Are you waiting for a random shuttle to pass by in hopes that they’ll agree to rescue you?” He spoke with such derision that you found yourself flinching as well. If the man had refused to team up with you, that had been your plan. Blind hope. Being placed into the debt of yet another person.

 

“We’re very well not going to let _you_ contact the _First Order_ if that’s what you’re insinuating.” Despite his words, the man’s voice was shaky. Your eyes darted to the broken limb. They were on borrowed time. The creatures. The locals. At this point, they were weighing their choices. Renounce the Resistance and hope that the First Order showed mercy. Cross their fingers that one of those unlikely ships did happen by before they died.

 

“Kriff…” You were the go-between in a way. The Resistance members did not fully know about your alliance with General Hux. But it was true that _you_ had connections who were neutral. Other mercenaries. “You all agree to pay the debt that’s asked, I have a way we can all get out of here.”

 

There was hesitation from all three of them. Strangled noises. Teeth being clenched. The Resistance members shared a look. General Hux was annoyed that his contact with the First Order would be delayed. Any annoyance the three of them held be damned, you thought. _You_ were the one who had been dragged into the middle of their rivalry. Taken advantage of. Losing nearly everything. They had no right to hesitate!

 

Of course, you _had_ agreed to the mission of capturing General Hux. It was not as though you held absolutely no blame at all.

 

“All of you—your survival instincts _suck_.”

 

Yours, meanwhile, were what kept you from reaching for the communications device. You had no doubt that you would be shot if you went for it. The Resistance members were no longer looking at one another. They were considering General Hux. If _you_ were the only other one alive, they would have accepted the offer without a second thought. But you were not willing to kill General Hux for that. Somehow these two knew it. Not a one of you fully trusted the other side.

 

The cackling of the resting creatures reached your ears anew. As did the sound of them feeding.


	12. Lasting Arrangements

 

Lasting Arrangements

 

There were several moments that you considered if it would be easier to surrender your life to either the locals or the creatures. Because surely— _surely_ —that was far less painful than enduring the bickering between the two Resistance members and General Hux while you waited for your contact to reply again. There was an agreement on their part to locate you, to rescue you. It was the price that they were deciding. They did not know that it was the general of the First Order that was with you. Nor that the other two belonged to the Resistance. Not a one of you had been _stupid_ enough to admit to any of that. Revealing how political this all was would lead to a rejection. Or, in the case of General Hux, a ransom. That would have resulted in the First Order retaliating, which is why the two Resistance members hadn’t pressed. But now? Now that there was no chance of them being overheard by your contacts, they were quick to insult one another.

 

You were too tired and sore to attempt to tell them to shut up. They would laugh at you, you were certain. So instead you laid on the ground with your arms stretched out on either side of yourself while you waited for the price to be revealed. You were not as apprehensive as you would have been if _you_ had been in charge of footing the bill. How the Resistance members and Hux planned on splitting the cost, you did not know. You did not particularly care either so long as nothing came back to bite you in the ass.

 

A series of crackles preceded the voice of your contact. “Eggar here.” Why he had the need to reintroduce himself with every transmission, you did not know. You rolled over onto your stomach, shifted up onto your hands and knees, and grabbed hold of the communication device. A quick _yup_ from you was the only prompting he required. “The price is…one that you may not be bale to afford.”

 

“Well, we very well can’t afford dying either. Already aware you have caught us in a bind. Don’t be a bantha’s severed cock.” Rather than be insulted, the man on the other end laughed good-naturedly. He had been the one to first use that phrase around you. You whistled when he at last rattled off the cost. Your eyes darted to General Hux and the other two men. All three were startled, irritated. Now they had a common enemy…who was also their only chance at surviving this. “Yup, that will be covered. Not immediately.”

 

“We’re reasonable here.” You rolled your eyes at that. Given the price that had been demanded, reasonable was not exactly what you would call them. Opportunists. Clever. Asswipes. Phenomenal for not asking too many questions. “Just keep alive.”

 

“Will do,” you said, grumbling a little as you hoped that your words would ring true. If the locals were spying on the four of you at all from a close distance, you had not been able to see or hear them yet. The creatures were quieter, possibly having abandoned you for the time being. The communications ceased, although the connection was there if either party wished to contact the other.

 

You placed the device where either General Hux or the Resistance men would be able to grab hold of it. You then crawled into the escape pod to at long last get a decent nap before you were picked up by the mercenary and his bounty hunter friends. That was one thing that intrigued you about Eggar; he was one of the few mercenaries who _liked_ working alongside bounty hunters, and they enjoyed joining forces with him. Charismatic, good at getting great prices from those who hired him. He did not cheat those in his temporary alliances either as some bounty hunters and mercenaries were wont to do. It was why you had taken up a handful of jobs with him in the past. This was also why he had been the one you had contacted for this favor.

 

Stars above, you were grateful that he _had_ been within range.

 

Curling up on your side, you winced and released a light hiss. The pain had been growing, worsening with each encounter and with every passing hour. You did not know if Eggar would charge you extra for using the medpack he would have aboard the ship. That was a bill _you_ would be made to pay. A pity that.

 

When they arrived, you knew that Eggar would recognize General Hux as being First Order, and the other two men for what they were as well. Would he side with one over the other? Perhaps, like you, be seduced by promises of pay from the First Order. You had an excuse. You were in debt past your ears. Eggar? He had no debt. He was ahead of the game, although where he stored some of his riches was a mystery. You wondered if anyone would double-cross him if ever they learned of the location.

 

You lost consciousness to such thoughts, and thus dreamed of credits and debt. Searching for hoards of credits with a band of mercenaries who would betray you at a moment’s notice. Or without any notice at all, you noted when a blaster was pointed in your face.

 

A groan escaped you as you felt yourself being moved. The shirt was familiar; black with a trim of white. It was not the first time you had been carried by the man. He had helped show you the ropes when it came to taking jobs in this part of space. Though you wanted to protest being carried, your body felt all the more sore. All your bruises were likely nasty in color. And speaking of—your breath smelled horrid. Eggar wore a mask, however you suspected that even with it he was able to smell the stench from your body.

 

“If you charge extra for carrying me, I swear—“  


Rich laughter cut you off. “How about I charge you a story? I want to hear how you wound up here…without a ship…looking worse than I’ve ever seen you. First, though, you should shower when we get there.”

 

Eggar deposited you onto a seat in his transport ship. The two Resistance members and General Hux had also found a place to sit. You rolled your neck. The promise of a shower was keeping you conscious. When all this was done, you wanted to take a small break before taking any new jobs. Your gaze flicked to General Hux. The redhead was eyeing you. Every so often he would consider Eggar. As though he was trying to figure out your relationship with the man.

 

The attraction was not exactly one-sided, although you did wonder if it had grown more because of adrenaline and desperation.

 

No one said a word as Eggar too you to the ship on which the other mercenaries and bounty hunters awaited. They grinned a bit too widely for your taste when they saw who was with you. General Hux was easily recognizable. Not only due to the shock of red hair. It was his uniform. How he carried himself. The fact that he had introduced himself by name, extended his gratitude to the crew, and told them how the First Order would pay—a bit extra if he was left alone. The others, of course, agreed. They were greedy. They were in it for the money. But, hey, so were you.

 

You did not hang around long enough to hear names. You limped your way to where you knew the refresher to be located, stripped down, and climbed inside. “There has never been anything more perfect than this,” you said whilst sighing wistfully. The hot water did hurt some of your cuts. As for your sore muscle, it helped those. Waves of pleasure and pain crashed in alteration upon you. You lowered yourself to the floor of the shower

 

“If you use all the hot water,” General Hux’s voice cut in, causing you to jump in place, “I don’t believe I will be particularly fond of you.”

 

If you had not needed him to hire you as he had essentially promised to do, you would have told the man to get bent. As it was, you had been in a survival situation together. He had come through just as much as you had. This had required levels of trust, which is strange given how things had started out.

 

“I want to stay in until the water goes cold,” you replied, being completely honest with him. “Throw me my underwear and a shirt. You can join me after I put them back on.”

 

The redhead did not hesitate in obliging. Your shirt and panties were tossed into the shower with you. You wrinkled your nose at the sight of them. Absolutely disgusting. Not anything you wanted to put back on. You asked him to wait one moment so that you could rinse out the clothing as least a little. He only chuckled in response. While you completed the task you had set out to do, you listened to the movements coming from the other side of the shower. He was stripping now. Hopefully he would keep on _something_. He was attractive, yes, however you were not in the mood to have any naked body near yours.

 

“Mm.” His moan was deep and quite similar to the one you had released when you had first turned on the shower. Your eyes roamed over his exposed flesh—he had kept on his briefs—and you could not help but start to count the bruises he had obtained. The two of you were quite the pair in that respect. “How are your feet?” He reached for them without waiting for you to reply. You allowed him to do so, leaning backwards until your back touched the wall for better support. Hux clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Some of these may take some time to fully heal.” You snorted. “That was not a pun.” You enjoyed the way he narrowed his eyes at you, his face gaining a pink hue that was not only from the heat of the shower.

 

“You should scrub down,” you said, shrugging your shoulders and attempting to lighten the mood. When he became flustered, he turned into more of an ass. Wounded pride or something.

 

General Hux listened to your advice. He grabbed the soap after standing, lathering it along his body. You were shameless in not looking away as his hand delved into his briefs. This was not something the redhead was oblivious to. His gaze was locked on you nearly the entire time, and, from what you could tell, he liked the attention. “Do you have a rule against sleeping with someone who hires you?” he asked, keeping his voice low, likely so that none of the mercenaries, bounty hunters or the two Resistance member could hear if they happened by. You tilted your head to the side and slowly blinked at him. “Call it pent up energy.”

 

“I am spent,” you blurted.

 

“I don’t mean now. I am quite tired as well. I am referring to…let us call it lingering frustrations in regards to how we were put in this situation.”

 

“That’s fair,” you conceded with a lazy smirk. He was pissed that you had bested him, and he wanted to fuck you because of it. The man was also aware of your skill set, knew an asset when he saw one, and had not changed his mind about hiring you. “No biting during sex though.”

 

“For the record,” he said, quirking a single brow. “Biting off that ear was a necessity. I have no idea what is in the file you had on me, however that is clearly an element.” You cupped your hands over your ears and gave him a wide grin. “You look better without the helmet.”

 

He had murmured this last part, yet you caught it. You lowered your hands. “Hmm? I couldn’t hear you.”

 

“I may have to eat my words and bite your ears after all,” he said teasingly. You wrinkled your nose at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you have probably guessed, there will be smut next chapter. I am not entirely sure how many more chapters there will be, but yes we are nearing the end. I'm going to have RC do some things with the First Order; can't leave that out after all the build up for it. But yaaaay shower!!!


	13. Bed Rest

 

Bed Rest

 

There was a gloved hand over your mouth, muffling your screams and preventing your moans from echoing off the walls of the ship. The Two Resistance members had been dropped off first, and the mercenaries were busy with collecting the portion of payment that the two men were responsible for. Eggar was giving you and Hux a bit of privacy—or at least leaving the two of you alone to sleep. You _were_ exhausted. General Armitage Hux was probably tired as well, however he seemed far more interested in showing you that biting _could_ be pleasurable. He nibbled no your ear, tugging and licking. You wondered if it would bruise, if he was leaving a hickey. Then screamed into the palm of his hand as he drew back to blow air against the wet patch of saliva he had left on you.

 

You had one hand behind yourself, gripping the front of his shirt, which was borrowed pending purchase from one of the crew. You also wore borrowed clothing. In your case, the clothing was baggy, loose. This was one of the reasons General Hux had rolled atop you and started assaulting your ear. Your other hand was on the mattress of the bunk. You clawed at the sheets and squirmed. The redhead grunted, his actions coming to an end. You groaned, both tired and aroused, a good mixture for becoming cranky. When he took his hand off of your mouth, you swore at him, shoved him off of you, and dove underneath the covers.

 

“You were more pleasant on the planet,” Armitage teased. You stuck one hand above the blankets, showing him your middle finger. His teasing _careful, I may bite that too_ had your limb moving in retreat.

 

The mattress wobbled despite being secured to the bed frame. General Hux was climbing off of the bed to climb back onto his own bunk. You could hear the footsteps of the crew drawing nearer. The chances of them peeking in to check on you were low, but they were not an impossibility. You did not fully mind the interruption at any rate. You were more tired than you were aroused. It had been arranged that you would disembark alongside General Hux when the First Order arrived. Eggar had no objections to this; he would be paid the other half of what was owed to him at that time. The small fees here and there that _you_ would need to pay would be kept on record. Eggar was a reasonable man who was not going to demand immediate payment from you since he was aware you did not have it. As with most people, he knew that you were loyal in paying your debts.

 

Your file had outlined the fact that General Armitage Hux was quite the workaholic. You were uncertain how much sleep you would receive at that point. Aside from the fact that Hux wanted to have sex with you, there was the additional fact that he still intended to employ you. The first job would likely be something you would not be paid credits for; the First Order would be providing you with a ship and other supplies. Essentially, you were in far more debt than you had been before accepting the failed mission of capturing General Hux. _Not **exactly** failed,_ you amended. You _had_ captured him. The kriffing Resistance had simply double-crossed you. They had forced your hand, and now you were aligned with their enemy.

 

You wondered if one of your missions would be to hunt down the two who had only recently departed. It would hardly surprise you.

 

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The mercenary fell asleep before he did, and she was still unconscious even after he awoke. The arrangement made was that there would be ample time given to the two Resistance members to secure passage away from the planet they had been delivered to before the First Order was contacted. Dealing with neutral parties could be quit cumbersome. Armitage well knew that he would have to hunt those two down. They would not be allowed to live after they had hired the slumbering female to have him brought. It still amazed him that she had been successful; in this, the Resistance had been lucky. Although, in hindsight, it was to _his_ benefit. The First Order now had a rather capable mercenary.

 

Now that the First Order had been contacted, it would hardly be long before they arrived to pick him up. He could already picture Captain Edrison Peavey’s false smile. Phasma would be pleased though. They worked well together. Phasma would not have allowed Peavey to make any idiotic mistakes. For that matter, neither would Kylo Ren if he had returned from his own mission. The Force user may have been more than a little annoying, however he did have his moments.

 

Armitage wanted the mercenary ready for when the First Order arrived. He strode over to the bunk she was sleeping on, the blanket still pulled over her head. He grabbed the edge of the covers, ripping them downwards and angling his body so that she would miss him if she aimed a blow his way. She did not stir at all. He shook her with his other hand. She slapped at his wrist, grabbing onto it when it did not leave her, and shoved.

 

“You can sleep once we are aboard my ship. Get up!” This was met with a _no_. His nostrils flared. Aware that he sounded like a child, he said, “Would you like me to bite you?” _I don’t care_ was the murmured the response. “Very well. I will have a stormtrooper carry you to medbay.” That was a threat most officers disliked. This mercenary? She gave him a thumb’s up.

 

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You had a few hairline fractures that caused the First Order medics to order you a week’s worth of bed rest after they treated your injuries. They probably had not intended you to be in _Hux’s_ bed. You were not complaining though. Armitage had not yet touched you. He was busy playing catch up with all that he had missed—which was absolutely ridiculous given that he hadn’t been away for very long. It showed you just how busy the First Order was. No wonder the man seemed to have a stick up his ass.

 

“I appreciate you putting me in contact with Lothsun,” General Hux drawled as he entered his quarters. You turned your head to consider him, refusing to get out of bed, although you did pause the holodrama series you had started to watch. “As we agreed, this covers the expenses of your medical treatment.” He had shrugged out of his greatcoat, hanging it up in the wardrobe. You wiggled your toes whilst watching him. “Despite being so far in debt, you have managed to secure an assortment of contacts that will prove to be quite useful to the First Order. They trust you, whereas with us they are skeptical. I may have you acting as a go-between.”

 

“I suppose as long as my debt is paid off, I can’t really complain,” you said. The pair of you were dancing around the fact that you hardly had a choice in the matter. Not only because the First Order would not allow you to betray it any way, but also because you _did_ need a steady pay at this point. There was the additional fact that you had not yet been given a ship, although General Hux promised you that one was in the process of being purchased for you. You knew that they would bug it; and if you attempted to remove those tracking devices, it would be a sign of betrayal—that would mean your death.

 

General Hux removed his shirt next. Your lips formed around an _oh_ of realization. He had caught up with work. You shut down the holoprojector and set it back in the correct drawer while Armitage continued to strip. You were wearing only one of his shirts and undergarments. He had provided you with clothing of your own, however you quite enjoyed the feel of his shirts—not a uniform shirt either; one of his exercise tops. You toyed with its hem without making a move to remove it. As he lowered his pants, Armitage quirked an eyebrow at you. You smirked, meeting the challenge.

 

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Her flirtatious ways fueled his desire. Armitage liked that she had not lost the spark; it had not been solely because they were thrust into a life or death situation. This was her. Fully of snark and wit. General Hux kicked off his boots and removed his socks before stepping closer to the bed. She wrinkled his nose, pointing a lone finger at his left hand, specifically at the glove he was still wearing. Armitage held up both hands as if in mock surrender…without surrendering. He left on the gloves, placing them on the edge of the mattress and climbing onto the bed to join her. She twisted the bottom of the shirt she was wearing, laughing and allowing herself to fall backwards so that her head hit his pillow.

 

As much as he loved when she flirted and played hard to get, Armitage discovered that he enjoyed this more. The two of them had been wanting this. He was not the only one to have been plagued by built-up tension. Work had prevented them from being able to indulge. But now…

 

He placed his hands on either side of her head, swooping in and kissing her mouth. She wound her arms around him, tugged him closer, his bare chest meeting the material of the shirt she had commandeered from him, and returned his kiss. Her lips moved along with his, parting enough to allow his tongue to enter. He groaned. She had been eating chocolates and caf. It made her taste sweet. Armitage ground his hips against hers, one hand moving down to part her thighs.

 

She traced his right ear with two fingers. He could feel her nose wrinkling again with the way her lips shifted no his. “You’re more pleasant when you’re clean,” he said against her mouth while sliding both of his hands up the shirt and nestling himself between her legs. Her laughter caused both of their bodies to shake. It was not the first time he had said these words to her. She seemed to like them, even when she rolled her eyes.

 

Armitage cupped her breasts through her bra, kneading them prior to slipping his hands underneath her body and unhooking the obstacle. They moved together, the mercenary and him, both of them sitting up so that she could more easily slip her arms out of the straps and then allow him to toss the article off the bed. She, meanwhile, had hooked her thumbs into her panties, which soon joined the bra. Hux pawed at the shirt. One of his hands remained underneath it, toying with her smooth breast. She squirmed against him at that, though both of her hands went to the wrist of the hand that was attempting to tug up the shirt. He began to frown, only to relax when she whispered the request that he finish stripping first.

 

“Not the gloves,” he said, and there she did roll her eyes. Armitage smirked to himself and moved up onto his knees.

 

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You licked your lips at the sight of him pushing down his underwear. In order to fully remove them, Armitage had to stand. Your eyebrows rose towards your hairline as they dropped to the floor. You no longer cared if he wore the leather gloves or took them off. Shifting over, you swung your legs off the side of the bed and grabbed at his hips with both of your hands. You pulled him closer, one hand leaving his hip in favor of gripping his cock, which was already hardening. General Hux swore as you leaned down and swiped your tongue along his slit. In unison to the movement of your tongue, you stroked his shaft.

 

“Mm. Well worth the wait,” you purred. His response was a moan, gruff in sound and rather needy. You smirked to yourself and took the head of his erection into your mouth. Hollowing your cheeks, you started to bob your head, groaning so that sound vibrations stimulated him.

 

General Hux rocked his hips forward, shallow thrusts that were in time with your own movements. You groaned more loudly, cupping his sac in one hand and using your fingertips to tease his perineum. He jumped a little at the contact, which was obviously a newer experience for him. You repeated the action, and he grabbed at your hair, tugging some of the strands and forcing you closer. You let him take control, relaxing the muscles in your shoulders and neck so that he was better able to manipulate you without causing any discomfort.

 

He withdrew from your mouth, grabbing at your wrists instead to move your hands off of him. You sighed, lifting up your arms when he ordered you to do so. Armitage pulled his shirt off of you, literally tossed it away, and pinned your down against the bed. His hands were all over your body, kneading your breasts, cupping between your legs—a finger wormed its way inside of your wet opening. You hissed in pleasure, an _oh yes_ filling the room.

 

He nibbled at your earlobe again, one of his favorite things to do since it never failed at making you shiver. The seams of his glove stroked your inner walls deliciously, the friction they caused making you grind yourself down against them. Armitage slipped a second finger into you, beginning to alternate between scissoring them and simply fucking you with them. You turned your head and caught his mouth with yours.

 

When he deemed you ready for him, he withdrew his fingers and positioned his cock at your entrance. You threw back your head, arching in pleasure. Your toes were curled, your jaw dropped as you tried to breathe. Above you, Armitage chuckled and paused in his movements. You sucked in air, whispered out his name, and told him to hurry and fuck you. He did not protest. General Hux could not keep his hands from roaming your body again. You loved when he toyed with your breasts, pressing them towards one another, rolling them, squeezing. Wrapping your legs more securely around him, you tilted your head and bit at his ear.

 

“Mm. You feel good,” he whispered, breaking free and running the tip of his nose along yours. You rolled the two of you, shoving him onto his back and starting to ride his cock. Armitage held onto you, aiding you. “Kriff, I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

 

“Distracting you from work?” you asked, waggling your eyebrows.

 

“Normally I would be angry.” He placed the tip of one gloved finger into his mouth, tugging off the glove. You basked in the feel of his bare hand on you. It was warmer than the leather he had worn. More personal as well. You grabbed at his other glove, and he allowed you to remove it. You cupped his hands, both of which were on your chest. Your bodies worked together.

 

Words had given way to moans and panting, your heavy breaths as well as his indicating that both of you were close. General Hux switched positions, once more placing your body under his. Your vision blurred at the edges, your orgasm powerful. You could still feel him moving inside of you, filling you, cumming inside of you.

 

“Oh, kriff,” you said when you could breathe a little more normally. “Wow… If I kidnap you again, do I get a repeat performance?”

 

He scoffed. “Perhaps if you do well on jobs, I’ll give you a repeat performance.” You pouted, toying with his ear. “I’ll allow for another few days of bed rest for you, however. After all, I rather enjoy spooning with you.”

 

“We’ve never… You spoon with me when you take naps?” You had known he came into his quarters from time to time. You even knew that he climbed into bed with you. That he cuddled, however, was a pleasant surprise. “That definitely wasn’t in your file.”

 

“I would hope not. I have my quarters swept for bugs quite often.” You chuckled and gave the room a cursory glance. “I really appreciate that you do your homework when taking on a job.” There was no malice. He had fully forgive you for having captured him, especially with everything working out in his favor. The pent up frustrations equating to sex? That was definitely something that you were enjoying as well.


	14. Unwanted Developments

 

Unwanted Developments

 

You had been given a datapad by the First Order General in order to begin compiling a list of supplies you would require on missions they intended to send your way in the future. Armitage was content to have you working as a neutral party between himself and several of your contacts for the time being. As it allowed your body more time to heal from injuries you had obtained, and also was viewed as payable work by the redhead, you had no objections to this arrangement. All fees obtained from your medical care as well as what you required in supplies had now been dealt with. All while you remained mostly relaxed and safe. Healing from the hairline fractures had not meant that your body was fully recuperated. You were allowed time to use the training facilities as part of physical therapy, which both the med droids and human physician encouraged.

 

First Order personnel rarely engaged in conversation with you. Your face had been passed around through the ship to allow them all to know that you were no infiltrator. The one annoyance, in your opinion, was that the majority of your new clothing included First Order patches. There were a handful of outfits that were free of the insignias; these were what you would wear while on missions. Having clothes, however, did not keep you from dressing in the general’s shirts when you wanted to nothing more than lounge around while getting into contact with other mercenaries.

 

Eggar was hesitant to take on any First Order jobs in the official sense. He had not minded playing the role of rescuer or accepting credits for that. Taking on another job, though, would mean that, like you, he was aligning himself with the military organization. That brought strings attached, strings that the man wished to avoid. You did not blame him in the least. But you _were_ thankful that this hesitancy did not mean he refused to speak with you at all.

 

“Have you looked into Conthalu’s claim?” you asked when the man accepted a transmission. He had received clearance from General Hux to come in range; the First Order did not want to risk any communications being intercepted by Resistance spies. The redhead knew the importance of you speaking with your fellow merc, though, and was being rather lenient. “This _surprise debt_ that I supposedly owe isn’t… He should be fully paid off.”

 

“I looked into it, yeah. There’s no way to prove nor disprove its validity. Which means…” You wanted to cry. Normally it would not have been tears that were forming. It would have been a fist. If you could not disprove the claim, you were to pay it. That was the arrangement from generations back. “Look… You’re not hearing this from me. There are several quite content to keep you as a sort of cash-nerf. You need something that will shake them off your tail.”

 

The problem in that, of course, was that such things required _more_ credits, more debt. It was a vicious cycle.

 

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The mercenary was already aware that her interactions with Eggar were being monitored. Not that he would have felt guilty for listening in if that weren’t the case. It did make it easier to approach her about the information. Armitage waited until the transmission had ended before heading to his quarters. Eggar was jumping to hyperspace, and General Hux considered again the benefits to be had if that specific mercenary ever decided to work with the First Order. As it was, he had another mercenary at his disposal. One who was rather capable, and she was in a predicament that he could use to his advantage.

 

She was digging the heels of her hands against the edges of her eye sockets. Her mutterings had not ceased even with him entering the room. They had grown comfortable with one another, although not enough to where either ever fully dropped their guard.

 

“There is a better cure for stress headaches.”

 

“Yes,” she grumbled. “I hear your dick’s a wonder pill.”

 

It was strangely flattering. Armitage glanced down at the datafile he had brought with him. His pre-planned _I’ll deal with your problem after you have dealt with mine_ failed to leave his tongue. The mercenary was wearing only a shirt—his shirt again—and a pair of panties. No bra. She tugged her hands away from her eyes, which darted down to the front of his pants. Her attention wavered briefly to the datafile then shifted back. Aware that he had some time—not a _lot_ , but enough—before anyone on the bridge began to wonder why he had not yet returned, General Hux set down the datafile and reached for the front of his pants.

 

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You preferred sex with Armitage Hux when the man had more than a few minutes to spare. That did not stop you from enjoying yourself, not that it cured your headache. His shirt remained on your back, and your panties were…well, they were _somewhere_ in the quarters. He had thrown them, and you had not thought to track their trajectory. General Hux was in the process of smoothing his uniform and fixing his hair—you had developed a fondness for mussing it up, and he no longer chastised you for doing so.

 

What was giving you hope that your headache would eventually abate was the information presented on the file that the First Order officer had given to you. In exchange for you completing the job, he would _encourage_ Conthalu to drop the claim. He was not revealing all of his plans, which was just as well.

 

“They’re double-dipping with both the Resistance and First Order?” Armitage gave a dismissive wave of his hand. It was not uncommon for suppliers to do so. This individual, though? They were _leaking_ _information_ to both sides. You pinched your bottom lip between your thumb and index finger. Some of the information you had obtained on Armitage Hux himself was due to this individual. You could definitely see the issue. “You’re not having me kill them… You want them brought to you?”

 

“To be interrogated. I wish to know the names of others who may be working with them. They cannot have accomplished all of this alone.” You grunted in agreement, your head bobbing as you nodded and scrolled through the file again. “The First Order will not double-cross you as the Resistance did.” You lifted your eyes to him. You could feel your face had scrunched up at his words. The memory did not sting as it had originally, and you did appreciate his effort to put your mind at ease. “The ship you will be given is only temporary it was formerly used by a Resistance pilot. I don’t want this traced back to the First Order, as it may dissuade others from working with us.”

 

“Understood,” you said. This would also protect _you_ from receiving a bad rep. Sometimes people remembered faces, but more often they recalled ships. The Millennium Falcon, for instance, was as well known as the smuggler.

 

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That the questions she asked were limited in number informed General Hux that the mercenary was familiar with the individual. He had suspected as much. He wondered, if asked, would she admit that she had learned information about _him_ from them? He posed the question, and she nodded without hesitation. Her loyalty was secured. Armitage entertained the thought of sending the Resistance members flowers. He knew where the two had been dealt with. General Hux had not realized that the mercenary who had been sent would take his words of _I want their heads_ literally. Not that he didn’t appreciate the proof of death.

 

“Do you have any qualms with capturing someone who was a former source?”

 

She lifted her eyes to his face. “In this case, no.” She at last set aside the file he had provided. “Conthalu uses them as well. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn they played a part in ensuring this _claim_ stuck.” Once more, a part of her misfortunate was useful to him. It was almost enough to cause him to feel a semblance of pity for her. Almost. He suspected she would have disliked his pity at any rate. “I may use a disguise—make sure your TIEs don’t shoot me down.” He knew that she was taking into consideration the ship that she would be using as well as the disguise—a Resistance member, he mused. Ah, the more time that went by, the more he found himself attracted to her, and for more than just her body. He valued intellect.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

It amused you that General Hux had clothing that would allow you to pass off as a member of the Resistance at his ready. You doubted that he would permit any First Order officers to don such attire. You pictured the clothing being used to instead assist programmers in developing the simulations that stormtroopers and officers would run through. Accuracy was obviously important. Another thing you found to be funny was that once you were dressed in the Resistance clothes, Armitage refused to look at you for very long. It reminded you a lot of how he had treated you when you had captured him and been taking him to the Resistance members who had later backstabbed you.

 

He was such a cold man, which contrasted with the fact that he enjoyed cuddling. His tendency to shy away from affection or sentimentality had you wondering if his well-guarded behavior stemmed from a _need_. Had he been deprived of affection as a child?

 

 _Well, he is Brendol’s child_ , you reminded yourself, not for the first time. One benefit to this was that there seemed to be a lack of strings being attached to your relationship with him. Not that it was a _true_ relationship. The pair of you were not dating. He was, in essence, your boss. And…the two of you were fucking. You stealing his shirts from time to time was _not_ love. There were never any _I love you_ ’s. Nothing that would equate to true affection at all.

 

Acts of kindness from him could be traced to him wanting you to succeed on missions. Work. Business.

 

One would think that would make this less complicated. But…

 

Well, you had not expected to feel let down by his ignoring you. The lack of a proper _goodbye_ had stung. It should not have stung. Things went from amusing you to threatening to depress you.

 

You needed to push to have him give you the supplies you would need for future missions after this. Break away, no longer remain onboard his ship. Putting distance between the two of you was the one sure way of ensuring your feelings no longer threatened to ruin it all.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Armitage Hux stood on the bridge of the _Finalizer_. His mind flitted between the course his ship was taking and the mission he had sent the mercenary on. It was one that she would have little to no trouble accomplishing. He could not for the life of him figure out why it was, then, that he thought of her. She would not double-cross him. Captain Phasma turned away from him, the woman leaving the bridge to run through another simulation with several of her stormtroopers. She had failed to remark on the fact that Hux was distracted, but he knew that she had noticed it all the same.

 

He had told the mercenary that he would not double-cross her. Yet if she was proving to be a distraction, that made her more of a liability than anything. On the other hand, killing her would dissuade other mercenaries from working with him. Unless it was properly covered up.

 

He was overreacting, he told himself. There was no need to kill her. She was loyal to the First Order as well as good at her job. Armitage knew, however, that he would have to deal with these… _feelings_ …in some way.


	15. What's Your Answer

 

What’s Your Answer

 

The mission given to you by General Hux proved to be easier to carry out than you had believed. The supplier was rather flirtatious, enjoyed his own comments on how it would be a _tight fit_ _inside of your ship_ , and could not keep himself from having one hand on you at all times. You knew better than to look a gift bantha in the mouth. Allowing yourself to be fondled by the man, you led him away from the game tables on Canto Bight and into your ship. Injecting him with some serum that the First Order had provided was also quite easy.   It had cost you a kiss, however, and that was why you wiped your mouth with the back of your arm while restraining his limp body with your other hand.

 

For the duration of the flight back to the _Finalizer_ , you distracted yourself with thoughts of the pervert in your ship as well as what sort of place you would use as a home base once you left the Star Destroyer. You did not want to think about the redhead nor your new sense of attachment towards him. For so long you had thrown yourself into the job, knowing you had so much debt to pay off, that aside from passing flings and one-night stands, you had never become emotionally attached to anyone. Not like this. You did not know if it was the strange familiarity between the two of you, or if the feelings were genuine. And you did not want to know, or so you told yourself.

 

 _It will have to be somewhere in the Outer Rim_ , you thought in regards to where you would choose to spend your time when you were not on missions. _Somewhere they can get into contact with me._

 

You pictured yourself, alone, in a random apartment. You would not want to own any place outright. Renting was better; it was easier to leave some place that way. Most of the items that had held any sentimental value in your life had been aboard the ship you had lost to the Resistance’s betrayal. If only your debt would have disappeared along with it.

 

The serum worked well, keeping the man unconscious even after you arrived at the _Finalizer_. The stormtroopers assigned to escort him to an interrogation room were at the ready. You exited the ship, not looking at it again. You had every intention to go pack what few belongings you owned, change out of the Resistance outfit, and demand you be given the ship that had been promised to you. You removed the helmet to avoid being intercepted by any of the ‘troopers or officers. You could feel the fleeting glares before some of them recognized you. Then you received a handful of nods, which you returned to be polite.

 

In a strange way, these people were technically your co-workers, your peers. True, you would split ways when all your debts were paid off. But it offered a sense of comfort in the meantime. You didn’t owe any of them money yet they still acknowledged your presence. That was one change you fully enjoyed.

 

The stormtrooper standing guard at the door to General Hux’s quarters stepped aside to allow you in. You still had access. _Hmm. He hasn’t changed the locks_ , you thought. There had been a nagging suspicion in you that he would begin shutting you out. You were his employee in a way. Not his lover—maybe his lover, although that was about to change. You certainly were not partners, not romantically…you weren’t his girlfriend.

 

That fact did not stop you from grabbing your three favorite shirts of his, the ones you constantly borrowed, and shoving them into a bag you planned to take with you. It was as you were standing straight again from this task that you noticed a small box on the center of the pillow. You furrowed your brow, moved closer, and felt your breath hitch upon seeing your name inscribed on the top.

 

Your first instinct was that it was a trap, some bomb or a creature that would kill you the moment you opened the lid. Even more terrifying than that was the thought that this would be an intimate gift. Jewelry. A ring, specifically, would have sent your mind into a whirl. More of a whirl than it was currently in. Thus you hoped it was a bomb instead of a ring as you lifted the lid. Your heart was pounding hard in your chest. It was one of those moments where it felt as though the organ would burst free. It did not burst free, however, and what was inside the box was not a trap.

 

Nor was it jewelry, you noted with relief. There was a datacard inside the box, one that held information on the ship that was being secured for you. It required more modifications, which were being taken care of. The delay was something you could handle, even if you did want to run away as quickly and as soon as possible. This ship was gorgeous. Not to mention more high end than any other vessel you had owned.

 

You wanted to tell yourself that the ship’s quality was due to the First Order wanting you to do a good job. Yet a part of you whispered that it had to mean more than that. There was, realistically, absolutely no reason for the First Order to spend as much as they were on a ship for you like this. This was General Hux’s doing. Something more personal mixed in with business. You lowered yourself onto the edge of the mattress, staring at the ship that was displayed and attempting to gather your thoughts together.

 

The door to the man’s quarters opened, and Armitage stepped inside. You could see him in the corner of your eye, though you found yourself unable to remove your gaze from the display. “Is it to your liking?” he asked.

 

“It’s…” You took a deep breath, holding it in as you tried to clear your thoughts once more. “I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but…”

 

“It exceeds expectations?” You settled for nodding. General Hux did not sound confused about your reaction nor did he sound disappointed. There was an edge to his tone, which seemed more guarded than usual. You at last removed your attention from the display to stare at him full on. The door to his quarters had closed, however he had hardly moved beyond its threshold. “Staying in close proximity for too long can be… There are complications it presents. I want you to have somewhere nice to sleep when you are not here.”

 

You wondered if this was the closest to _I care about your safety_ that you would receive from the man. It had your heart racing all over again, your head spinning. The signs were saying that your feelings for the man, confusing as they were, _were_ reciprocated. All of your reservations were matched with his own as well. The knowledge that the pair of you needed space. His words implied that he wanted your presence there in his quarters at times though. Periodically the two of you would spend time together as you had been. It was a nice thought in theory.

 

But your life had been about debt, about paying it off. Now you were wondering what sort of emotional currency you would have to spend to repay the cost of the ship he was supplying you with. Did it mean he owned you and your life?

 

“I can’t pay you back…or, I could take a few extra jobs,” you said. His shoulders heaved as he sighed and began to shake his head. “I—”

 

“With your permission, I would like to treat you as my consort.” That had your jaw twitching; it did not know whether to drop or shut. Heat began to flood through your body along with waves of pure coldness. You felt goosebumps rising. “Our relationship would not be typical. I place the First Order above all us; its success is more important to me than maintaining any possible romance. That being said, spending time with you is agreeable. You know the value of hard work, and you do not interfere with mine. I will not alter any business agreement regardless of your response to this. The missions offered to you will remain the same as well no matter your answer.”

 

You turned to the display of the ship, admiring its beauty and taking into consideration all of the modifications that were being made. General Hux was not offering to pay off all of your debt. He was leaving that to you, not interfering in your affairs—although he was going to take care of Conthalu. You were not being asked to relinquish any sense of autonomy. Yet he planned to spoil you in certain areas. An extravagant ship for one thing. It was like having a sugar daddy funding your career.

 

 _No_ , you thought _, not ‘like’. It **is** having a sugar daddy funding my career_.

 

You understood where he was coming from. Relationships in a more typical sense would distract him from doing his job, which could be fatal in a very literal sense. It was not only his life on the line, but the lives of all those who served alongside and under him. By making a more formal arrangement with you, his mind would likely be more at ease. He would be more comfortable when it came to expressing himself when the two of you were in more private settings. Plus giving you the ship meant that there would be breathing room. Neither of you would feel smothered by the other. Top that off with the tracker that would be in place; Armitage would know you were safe, where you were. This was useful for the separation of business and pleasure as well.

 

“What if this falls apart? Would you have me killed?” Armitage did not flinch when you posed the question. You wondered if this meant that he had considered arranging your death at the start of his realizing he had feelings for you. He was a cold man, even if he did enjoy cuddling with you in bed. His eyes shifted several times. He was not aiming to lie; you could tell that he did not have an answer to that question. You supposed that was fair. Depending on how long the two of you were together, there was a chance that you would learn many of his secrets. That _would_ make it reasonable for him to want you dead. “Within reason?”

 

“Yes,” he said quietly.

 

It was a fair answer, it truly was. It was the sort of response you would have received from many mercenaries as well. Stars, it was an answer _you_ would have supplied when you thought about it.

 

Knowing all of this did not make answering the man any easier. You had to consider yourself first. The amount of debt you were in—that would lessen as you took more missions from the First Order. You being in a position where you had to trust Armitage as more than a means for a job? That was terrifying. You had gone through a sort of honeymoon phase after being brought onto the ship. Now that you had been on a mission, though, it was all hitting you. The hurt you had felt when he had essentially shut you out because of a stupid disguise. You hated feeling that way. It made you feel far too vulnerable for your liking.

 

General Hux walked further into the room as the silence between the two of you persisted. You flopped down onto your back and stared at the ceiling. The datacard was on the mattress by your hip, its display still turned on.

 

“It was so much easier when we were running from those creatures.” There was less time to think about things then. You had only been allowed fleeting thoughts of the future, nothing larger. There had been a singular goal in mind: survival. What was being addressed now was not only survival, but intimacy. Companionship. The opening oneself up to betrayal. Not an _I’ll kill you_ betrayal either; you could deal with Armitage wanting you dead if things fell through. It was the heartache that you feared. This offer was not the equivalent of jewelry or a ring, but it was close to it.

 

You wanted to stay with him while at the same time you wanted to run away. You had no clear answer. Your mind was overworking itself. How were you supposed to answer him? You _did_ want this. You _didn’t_ want this.

 

Capturing the double-dipping supplier had been a piece of cake compared to this.


	16. After Dinner

 

After Dinner

 

You wondered how it was that General Hux could remain so calm and patient throughout all of this. Not that you didn’t appreciate it. You simply knew that if _you_ were driving yourself crazy with your thoughts and the lack of an answer, he had to be internally suffering as well. You blinked, twisting so that you were able to peer up at his face. The man had walked closer and shut off the display. His eyes wandered along your face, his head tilted to the side. There was worry there now that you actually saw him closer. Were your own concerns etched on your facial features?

 

“Perhaps eating dinner first would be best?” he suggested, offering you a temporary ‘out’. You greedily accepted, rolling up into a standing position, a literal bounce to your first step. General Hux snorted at that and murmured something along the lines of being amused under his breath. You flashed him a smile that was completely genuine. The fact that he was able to read your behavior did not make you nervous as you thought it might have. Instead, it allowed you to know that he was truthful in what he said—that he would accept if you declined. Not to mention that the relationship would be healthier in a way, the two of you not always having to _speak_ to understand one another.

 

Even though he was walking with you towards the cafeteria, he did not move to hold your hand—not that you had expected him to—or stand shoulder to shoulder with you. There was a maintained distance; breathing room is what you called it. It was precisely what you needed right then. “He had such grabby hands. I forgot that’s how he is. It was useful though.” You checked over your shoulder to see if he was scowling, which he was. Armitage yanked his gaze off of you to instead stare straight ahead. “I can handle myself.”

 

“I’m well aware.” His scowl had disappeared. You could tell that he was thinking about how the two of you had met as well as your time running from those creatures. “I don’t have to like it though.”

 

“I know.” As you said this, you swerved and bumped into him, tapping the back of his hand with the tips of three fingers. “I wanted to run away… Get away from you and these feelings. I can’t have my emotions distracting me from jobs either. Having a ship… I like the idea that I can just leave whenever I need to, even when there is no job.”

 

He hummed while nodding, commenting the next moment that he appreciated you were taking into consideration the pros and cons of having such a relationship with him. As he spoke, you thought of how his leather glove had felt on your fingers. A barrier between his flesh and yours. The two of you had constantly had a guard up no matter how close you had allowed the other to get. Even if you agreed to being his consort, you doubted that those barriers would disappear immediately. It would be gradual. Over time you would become more of a threat to his life if ever you betrayed him; and over time he would be more of a threat to your life if he ever betrayed you. You would learn each other’s secrets. A terrifying thought, that.

 

The truth was that while you were deeply in debt, you did have a failsafe in place. Goods and credits stored away, just enough to get on your feet with a new identity. The more that he learned about you, the more likely it would be that he could learn the location. Shaking off the tracker that was on your ship was only one step. _If_ it came down to any of that—well, he did have the better setup.

 

“Dirty secrets can get us killed,” you whispered, intentionally pluralizing the would-be victims. General Hux lifted his chin a fraction, his hair not moving an inch as the gel kept it locked in place. “What’s the saying again?”

 

“ _Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead_ ,” he intoned. Your eyes met his, the pair of you smirking knowingly at the other. There were skeletons in both your closet and his. Some of his were known by others, who kept their mouths closed for fear of being killed as well. For you, it was not fear that kept mouths closed. It was loyalty, favors re-paid, or a combination of the two. There had never been any romance, or even sex, with those who knew of your skeletons. That was far too messy. But that was what was now being proposed. “Let’s start with dinner. Secrets do not have to enter into the equation—if they do at all—until later.”

 

While he said that, you could not help but notice that the First Order personnel you bypassed on your way to the cafeteria stared at you in surprise. From this you could deduce that, even if he had relationships, they were kept on the down low. _Probably a_ hit it and quit it _sort of deal_ , you thought. That was what was supposed to have happened between the two of you. But now?

 

You shoved aside those thoughts, entering the cafeteria as the doors slid aside. Armitage slowed his pace. You grabbed up a tray and considered the limited options available. Most of the food was flavorless. It had optimal nutrition, however… To put it simply, you were faced with choosing between something that felt like dry bread or something that felt like undercooked noodle, both of which had the same taste. General Hux did not hesitate in the same way that you did. After he grabbed his tray, he went for the bread. You followed his example, eyeing the noodles in suspicion.

 

The gathered officers, stormtroopers, technicians and pilots paused mid-meal as you and General Hux sat at the corner table. You kept your back to most of them. Armitage lifted his eyes, and you could hear shuffling as they all tried to ignore the fact that the general was present. “So…when’s he scheduled to be interrogated?”

 

“Of all the things we could discuss, you choose work?” There was no disappointment, nor any malice in his voice. He truly was a workaholic. It made things easier in a way. If you were his consort, things would progress more slowly what with the both of you committing yourself to your respective jobs. “I am having a medical droid take his vitals to ensure no one goes overboard with techniques. I’ve observed my fair share of sloppy interrogations, and they get us nowhere. I need the information.”

 

You liked that. He had said that you did your homework for your job; it seemed that he did the exact same. You grinned, chewing on the bite of bland food that you had put into your mouth. Between bites, Armitage spoke of a couple of those failed and sloppy interrogations from the past. Nothing filled with gore. The details were kept at a minimum, not only for the fact that you were both eating, but also because of security reasons. Clearance and all that. You had had to conduct your own interrogations in the past, albeit with less technology available to you.

 

It was not back to his quarters that you found yourself after you had finished eating. It was—probably a utility closet given the broom and other random supplies you bumped into while your raked your fingers though his hair. His mouth was on yours, his tongue forcing yours into submission. Your bodies undulated together, and neither of you were undressed yet. You tugged at his shirt and undershirt, pulling the latter out from his pants, which he shoved down his hips enough to free his erection. Neither of you spoke the other. Your mouths were far too occupied. You hiked up one leg, moaning into the kiss as he entered you.

 

After sex, he returned to work and you went back to his quarters. He promised to inform you when the ship was ready. You had not given him a definitive answer yet, but the two of you had settled for a trial run. Making it semi-official and seeing how that impacted work for both of you. It was the wisest course of action you could take.

 

The more you looked at the ship he was having upgraded for you, the more you fell in love with the idea of being his consort. “This ship is such a beauty.” Armitage grunted. It had been three shift changes since you had seen him. He had taken a shower and was currently wearing only a robe. There was some speech he had to prepare for, although you did not know all the details. Some official First Order business. “And these modifications? Wow.”

 

“I have several jobs I am saving for you. They are easier, but that is to allow for some flexibility in these test runs.” You were on your feet at that, throwing yourself at him. His hands caught yours hips, his mouth your lips as you kissed him. “I believe this will give us enough breathing room to see how we do apart now that this is official.”

 

“Make sure it isn’t distracting,” you said, nodding. You loved the way this man thought. Mainly when it did not involve maiming Resistance members to leave them as live bait for creatures that would have been hunting you. “Some of them are more reconnaissance then?”

 

“Some, yes.” His eyebrows drew closer together. You had not pulled back from him at all. Your arms were still around him.

 

There was tension between the two of you now, some that had not been there before. Questions of: what if this doesn’t work? Are we being idiots? Frag, is this going to interfere with work?

 

Armitage laid you down on his bed, his arms around you. This was something that you enjoyed. Cuddling was not a thing you often allowed. You had never really trusted anyone enough to do so. Not like this. The mercenaries you had had flings with tended to be the sort you did not trust to have around your money. Or your technology. Not everyone was out to screw you over. It was just a hard life what with the amount of debt you had been born into. General Hux did not need your money. And, frankly, he was obviously more than content to spend some of his credits on you.

 

You could feel your muscles relax as you laid there with him. He appeared to have been tense as well. His hold on you loosened, becoming more comfortable. “Do you have dreams about that planet?”

 

“Yes,” you said, not lying. It was difficult to _not_ dream about what you had seem. The creatures killing others. You running for your life. Being betrayed. Having so much ripped away, and all this leading to further violence. You had been accepting anti-anxiety medications from the First Order to assist in dealing with it all. Armitage had to know this, however this was the first time he had pressed. “I… I’d seen some awful things before that. It sort of comes with the territory. But to be in _that_ sort of situation, it was… Do you dream about it?”

 

His hands were gentle as he helped to turn you over so that the two of you were staring at one another. “On occasion. Although you should remember that I haven been far too busy with work to sleep sufficiently.” You smiled at that, doubting that he had slept a decent amount of hours even before you had captured him. “A few of the jobs I have in mind for you, they can wait. I will have you run through two of the others then you can look them over. If you are not ready for them, I will listen to your advice on who to send in your stead.”

 

This was him being both respectful of your feelings, and also a smart strategist. You having a breakdown on a mission would not help the First Order. Not that you believed you would, but it was nice to know he took those things into consideration.

 

“Sounds like a good plan…and less bloody than your other ones.” He smirked, whispering that all he had done while on the planet was to ensure survival. It was the truth. A cold truth, but the truth all the same. “When I have my ship, that’s when we’ll be able to see how well this will work.” A pause. “I want it to work.” Armitage nodded. Both of you wanted this to work. You complemented one another so well. Yet there were times that life got in the way.


	17. Future Missions

 

Future Missions

 

There was a sense of peace that you could achieve only when alone; the ship that had been provided to you by the First Order—namely Hux—allowed you to experience that calm. You were between missions at the time, and Armitage was swamped with work. It was nice, in a way, to have this breather. Not that you felt smothered by him. The honeymoon phase had run its course though. There was no dating; more specifically, there was no _time_ to go on an official date. Being stared at in the cafeteria by First Order personnel took you out of the moment, and Armitage tended to clam up under the scrutiny. He had appearances to maintain. The sex was still amazing. But he was busy with work, which the both of you had agreed was an off-limits topic of discussion so that you would not have to be killed if things fell through. This left too much awkward silence for you. It was less tense on your ship. Here you could stroll around in your underwear while the ship was on autopilot. You could, essentially, not live in fear that you would ruin Armitage’s image with his personnel as you did whatever _you_ _liked_.

 

Within reason.

 

Firing a shot at the tracking beacon would summon the First Order to you, and that would have a particularly nasty outcome. Armitage had been sensible enough to ensure there were no cameras. He did not want others watching you, moreso after he had learned that you were rather serious when you stated that you sometimes liked to have limited or no clothing on when alone. A certain amount of freedom; this habit had formed when you had worked for quite a few months on a ship with faulty air conditioning. You had managed to convince the ginger-haired general to participate during his visit—only visit, at that, given his schedule—onboard your vessel.

 

That had been a rather entertaining experience for you. Armitage’s face had been rather red when he had started to parade about without his uniform on. Parading would not be an entirely accurate term, you thought. He had searched for cameras, which had meant that he was suspicious of you creating films that could later be used as blackmail. Initially you had begun to feel insulted, however that feeling had left you. It was logical for him to have those thoughts and doubts. You had had similar ones after all. Even with him assuring you that no cameras were aboard your vessel, you had proceeded to search for them when you had been in transit to your first mission with the new ship.

 

This was an obstacle in your relationship with Armitage Hux. It was one that would have existed no matter your partner. Strangely enough, it was an obstacle that was small in comparison with how other mercenaries referred to you as the First Order’s lap dog. Some such individuals readily took on missions from the First Order. How they had learned that you were more intimate with Hux, you did not know. It was possible that your ship gave you away. Or else a random officer had managed to shoot his mouth off while inebriated during shore leave.

 

Armitage did not understand why this all upset you. He was proud of the First Order. And you were, technically speaking, taking missions solely from them.

 

It had taken you a few weeks to identify what was so unappealing about the name. The mental image of a chained dog. No freedom. Limited life beyond its master. For so long you had been living for others, to pay off their debt, and now there was another part of your life that skewed how fellow mercenaries perceived you. This made you more sympathetic in regards to ensuring you did not damage General Hux’s image.

 

Your ship gave you a life beyond Armitage Hux. You were allowed time to learn more about yourself, both when you were on a mission and when you were without one. In regards to the latter, you quickly learned that you had a bit of an identity crisis.

 

What the blazing stars would you do once you were finally freed of all the debt? What aspirations did you have? You were already traveling the galaxy, which was something you did enjoy. You would continue in your line of work until you were able to build up some assets similar to Eggar. It was the _after that_ part of your life that you were unsure of.

 

Become a crazy tooka lady? Which, in your opinion, wasn’t _crazy_ since the creatures were rather cute. You could be a nerf-herder. Go to some backworld planet—keep your ship, of course, in case you ever wanted to leave—and see what life had to offer there. The problem with any of your plans was that you had difficulty picturing Armitage joining you. Not because you didn’t want him there since you _did_ , but because you knew that he would remain with the First Order. You did not know what his goals in life were. It was something that neither of you had fully discussed with one another. He had a longing for power, that much you knew. But did you want what he wanted? Would you remain by his side through it all?

 

The more you thought about it, the more appealing it was. Not remaining by his side in a literal sense. The pair of you were already doing well with having separate lives that intersected. It was a healthy relationship in that respect; neither of you stopping the other in their career field. Although now you wondered what expression the man would pull if you told him that you wanted to go off and be a nerf-herder.

 

You did want a pet. A loth-cat or tooka. Some traveling companion that would be easy to have on your ship or even take aboard the _Finalizer_ , or whatever vessel that Armitage happened to be on.

 

General Hux was not some mercenary who would want to steal your missions. There was no rivalry nor fear of being betrayed on that front.

 

You patted the control console of your ship, a grin forming on your face. “This might actually work out.” It was a rather terrifying thought given that you had never fully thought of a long-lasting relationship in the past. You were planning your future here. And you had an assortment of game plans for if the relationship did not last.

 

 _I want it to last_ , you thought. Your heart stuttered in your chest.

 

The physical distance between Hux and you at this point continued to be comfortable. The idea that it would be permanent, however, caused your stomach to churn.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

For Armitage Hux, his work schedule had always been busy and kept him away from his personal quarters far more than most officers. It was due to this that he often forgot that his consort was off-ship. He kept track of when she was away on missions. The between-times, however, were what he took for granted. General Hux pictured her waiting in his quarters only to remember that she was on her ship, away from the _Finalizer_. On occasion, her ship was in the same system as the Star Destroyer. Other times, though, she was away. A jump through hyperspace would bring him to her or her to him. That jump was not made unless a mission arose, or until she wanted to return.

 

What struck Armitage as bizarre was that he did not worry when the distance existed. He did not believe that she would betray him in terms of aligning with his enemies. Nor did he think that she would cheat on him. This had initially made him uncomfortable; Hux knew better than to trust others. Had he been in a relationship with another officer or anyone else who would want to move up in the ranks, he would not have trusted them to leave the ship without him. The absence of political strain in his relationship with the mercenary was refreshing.

 

He was increasingly curious as to what her goals in life would be once she paid off the debt she owed. The missions that she had been sent on these past few months had made more than a debt to that large sum. On top that, there had been a handful of skirmishes amongst several mercenaries, which had resulted in the death of three individuals who had a claim. It had been agreed that this portion of debt would be ignored, that she would no longer owe them anything at all. Surprisingly, the mercenaries were easier to deal with than bounty hunters. The First Order worked with both all the same. Anything to get the job done.

 

A ping sounded on the console nearest to him. General Hux’s eyes flicked over to the display. A ship had just exited hyperspace. He knew who it was even before the officer informed him that _the mercenary_ was back. She sent a request to board the _Finalizer_ , following standard procedure for vessels that were not strictly First Order. Armitage had a small smile that did not go unnoticed by the officers. They were professional; one officer in particular approved of the relationship given that a mission she had completed had aided in protecting her brother, who was also enlisted in the First Order.

 

“Summon her to the bridge after she has docked.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

While he did wish to keep his business and personal lives separate, he could not deny himself a chance to see her. The current work schedule did not allow him to leave his post. This was the only alternative. To save face, he could discuss potential missions for her to undertake. They would not yield much of a profit if one was focused on credits. She would be assisting stormtroopers and officers; this was a contributing factor to how General Hux selected to whom he offered the missions. Other mercenaries would view First Order personnel as entirely expendable rather than accepting only calculated losses.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

You had been on the bridge of the _Finalizer_ only a handful of times. It was here where you were allowed to fully appreciate the size of the Star Destroyer. Observing how many personnel were present had you releasing a low whistle. Officers _killed_ for the honor of controlling such a vessel; not only their enemies, but their allies as well. This made you think of your time on the planet with Hux and the Resistance members. So much in life was that way. People killing for their own survival or even to simply further their standing in whatever career field they chose. You looked from person to person on the bridge. They worked together as though they would never betray one another. A façade.

 

 _Becoming a nerf-herder is actually rather appealing. I’d probably go for crazy tooka lady though_.

 

“General Hux,” you said by way of greeting. The red-haired man had been observing you the entire time, his soft smile never fading. You returned the expression. It was a shame that you could not stroll right up to him and kiss him. Or even share a simple embrace. “Do you have any missions for me?”

 

“There are two possibilities. Whichever you do not believe best suits your experience, I will assign it to another. Is your ship still functioning well?” You nodded and took another step closer to him. He angled his body towards you, a gesture of reception for the attention you were paying him. “When your debt is paid off, will you continue accepting missions for the First Order?”

 

Some would believe it was tactless of him to ask such a question in public. You knew that indecision was welcome, that he was thinking of excuses to keep you near him. You crossed your arms across your chest, bobbing your head from side to side.

 

“It would be too soon for retirement. You need to set up a fund for that first.” You released a low sound that was a combination of a snort and growl, rolling your eyes at the same time. Armitage’s smile had changed into a smirk. This was his way of telling you, while in public, that he wanted you to stay. He was thinking of the future with you the same as you had been. Ways to make the relationship work. The urge to kiss him grew in intensity. The next time you got him alone, you would act on it in a heartbeat.

 

“I should probably go on even more mission from you…or demand some that have better pay, hmm?”

 

None of the officers nearby were oblivious to the fact that the pair of you were flirting. They did not comment nor look away from their tasks. Some grinned, others smirked, and a handful rolled their eyes. They were well-disciplined and committed to their jobs. None of them knew that you had once captured their General, and neither you nor Hux would let that become public knowledge. It would have had an impact on how the two of you interacted in the presence of the officers. There would have been more scrutiny, the officers questioning Hux’s judgment. This was a tricky game to play, however you enjoyed it given that you and Armitage were on the same side. You were truly allies, more-so than you had been on that planet.

 

“Maybe one day you’ll be on a mission with me?” you suggested. “We would probably make an exceptional team.”

 

“I’m sure we would,” he said, his eyes pinching a little in the corners. Everyone on the bridge knew you had worked together. That was one of the thrilling aspects of this game. Dropping hints of your true history and seeing how the other played off it. “Headgear is standard for most who accompany me. They tend to run into Resistance scum that are more than willing to take the headshot.”

 

Your smile was more than a little wide at that. You remembered fondly how he had taken your helmet, your mirth building as you recalled him shooting it. At the time, you hadn’t thought that you would look back on that moment and laugh. It was a nice surprise.

 

“You should probably wear a helmet then too. I can dip into my nonexistent retirement fund to buy you one.”

 

“I look forward to it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd be a crazy tooka/loth-cat lady AND a nerf-herder.


	18. Partner Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clair_Vermillon, I totally had to go with the plan to include a certain cat after your comment. I wasn't sure if I would do it or not, but your comment definitely convinced me <3

 

Partner Found

 

Your feet were on the dashboard of the vehicle, an act that had earned you a half-hearted glare from General Hux. He was seated behind you along with two stormtroopers who were serving as his guard. The driver was another superior officer, one who had not objected to your presence on this mission. It was First Order business. The location was a sort of neutral territory, much like the planet on which you had previously captured Armitage. Due to this, he had decided to bring you along. You were far more experienced in detecting traps than First Order personnel. Captain Phasma was busy with another mission that had been handed down from Supreme Leader Snoke; she would have accompanied Hux instead. You were not going to complain though. More of your debt had been paid off, and you were now able to divide your credits between paying off the remaining debt, taking care of your needs, and setting aside for your retirement fund.

 

You ran through a list of supplies that you would need to purchase when this mission was through. The list had the potential of expanding given that you had brought traps and weapons with you in case they were needed. At the top of your list was food for your furry friend. You had decided to invest in a loth-cat companion. She was quite intelligent and had managed to win over Armitage’s heart even though the man attempted to deny it. The two of you had worked together to name her, settling on Millicent.

 

Armitage had trained Millicent to answer calls that came into your ship. She would tap the correct switches that allowed the communication to be opened. This was why you could hear a purr-filled _meow_ in your ear. You pressed three fingers against your headgear where the communications device was located. As much as you wished to speak to her, it was prudent that you start paying more attention to your surroundings. You switched off the device, cutting away contact with your ship, and drew your feet off of the dashboard.

 

General Hux had been in a sour mood ever since he had met with his contact. According to the officer who was driving, this was normal when it came to some of those that the First Order did business with. You had never been a large fan of politics. Maker, that was one of your frustrations when working to pay off your debt. Meeting with people. Having to kiss ass basically, or at least keep your mouth shut so as to not enrage them. You sympathized with the man.

 

He was more on edge given the fact that when he had been captured, it had been on the return journey. You smiled smugly to yourself at that. You did a damn good job. Not that you were about to allow overconfidence to interfere with your ability to work. You made a hand gesture, and the driver altered course. It was an old trap. Unburied. Possibly inactive, however you were not about to risk it. You yourself had used such a ploy as bait. Grab up an old trap and bury the new one underneath. Your prey had a tendency to scoff, mocking anyone else who had fallen for the device…and walked right into it themselves.

 

“I haven’t noticed any merc or bounty hunter ships,” you said. “I think the Resistance may want to take you out with their own hands.”

 

“Or perhaps the mercenaries know better than to accept such a job,” Hux drawled. You looked over your shoulder at him. The man was frowning, not pleased in the least. He truly was a sourpuss after meetings. No wonder he had been anything but pleasant when the two of you had met. “I would think you would be pleased that you don’t have to spend more credits on new traps.”

 

 _He needs to get laid,_ you thought, your smug grin returning. Armitage narrowed his eyes at you, his features softening the next moment as he no doubt caught onto your train of thought. You returned your attention to the road, pointing out a possible trap that would short-circuit the engines. This planet had scavengers, some of whom were obviously quite desperate to get their hands on anything.

 

There was no ambush; the five of you arrived at the transport shuttle without any issues, save for the need to avoid a handful more traps. You believed that the presence of the stormtroopers kept the scavengers from firing at your vehicle as it maneuvered past the traps. Most in the galaxy knew better than to provoke the First Order. If an attack had to be made, it was planned and the risks were minimal.

 

“I’ll be going to my ship as soon as we arrive,” you informed Armitage. He grunted in response to your words as he sat beside you. “Did you want to check on her? She keeps initiating contact. It’s a cute trick, but I think you spoil her.” A single eyebrow rose in challenge. “I can hear when you call her while I’m away. I should be jealous. You call my cat more than you call me.”

 

General Hux cleared his throat. “She has a tendency to sleep on _my_ pillow when we are together. If I was not busy with work, she would be living in my quarters.” Your jaw dropped. That he would say such a thing reiterate to you that your relationship was on the right track. On the occasions where your ship was in the _Finalizer_ ’s docking bay and he was able to get away from work, Armitage Hux had been known to sneak aboard your vessel and smuggle Millicent to his quarters—partly because he enjoyed her company, but largely due to the fact that he knew it was a sure way to convince you to spend a few hours with him.

 

“I don’t see why you refuse to have sex simply because Millicent is in the room,” Armitage said roughly two hours later when the pair of you were in his quarters. He had convinced you to leave your ship by grabbing up Millicent when you weren’t looking. You rolled your eyes at the comment. It was not the first time the two of you had discussed this. For you? It was creepy to have the loth-cat watch. And she did watch Armitage wherever he went. The cat was enamored with him.

 

You offered a shrug in response to his subsequent huff, not looking his way as you opted to instead scroll further through the catalogue of weaponry. Your ~~sugar daddy~~ romantic partner had dug into your past to find your birthday. It was almost terrifying how easy it had been for him to obtain the information. Thankfully, he was using it for your better good. An upgraded blaster that would be encrypted to work only for you.

 

“You’re making all my merc friends jealous. They’re probably planning my death so they can shack up with you.”

 

“I assure you, I would sooner shoot them.” You knew this to be factual. He was a cold-blooded man sometimes. “Perhaps add to the ear collection.” You wrinkled your nose when he said this, shuddering as your mind readily formed a picture of such an act. “Do you have nightmares of me biting off ears?”

 

You shook your head, although not to answer the question that had been posed. There were some interests of his that you remained distant from. You were more than willing to kill if the situation called for it. You did not take much joy from the act. With him, well, you sometimes wondered if you were involved with a sociopath. Not that you were much better in other respects.

 

“We should go to that planet for my birthday. Except we’d bring plenty of stormtroopers…and not get chased by those beasts.”

 

“Here I thought you were suggesting the location to try out your birthday present.” You shrugged; it had occurred to you that the situation would call for such a thing. It was more that you wanted to see how your perception of the planet had been skewed by your predicament.

 

You could see from the corner of your eye Armitage stroking the top of Millicent’s head. If you revisited the planet, you would not mind taking your own ship. Part of you wanted to bring her with, to have a proper vacation, and yet the thought that those creatures _were_ there instilled a need to protect your beloved loth-cat. If ever you did choose a random planet to retire on, it would _not_ be that one.

 

“Perhaps that planet is better suited for an anniversary rather than your birthday.”

 

As cold-blooded as the man could be, he was rather romantic in strange ways. The two of you were well-versed in one another’s body language; at this point, if things did fall through, it would be where one of you would have to die. You hated to think like that. It was easy for you to picture your future with him. That had not changed. The urge to remain together had strengthened. He was a large part of you. Armitage had never given any indication that he felt differently.

 

“She may sleep on my pillow, however she watches _you_ sleep. Whenever you seem to have a rough night, she wakes me.” You felt a heaviness in your chest as you held in laughter. Armitage had again followed your thoughts. The implication that Millicent would never forgive him if he hurt you had you rising to your feet. You climbed onto the bed with the two of them. Her purring grew louder. “I also would not be ensuring you had such an advanced weapon if I felt differently.”

 

You had assumed that this was the case, however had also been aware of what was said in regards to making assumptions. Just the same, you had wondered about the possibility of the relationship ending amicably and what that would entail. Though unlikely, this did mean that in terms of business the pair of you would continue to associate with one another. There would be no need to kill the other. It was all about taking risks as to whether the other party would begin to harbor resentment.

 

Millicent worked her way over to the pillow and began to knead it. You observed her actions while allowing your thoughts to return to the present. It was foolish to dwell constantly on _possible_ futures. Doing so in this case would wreck the relationship entirely as it would cause a festering of paranoia and distrust. You murmured an apology to General Hux. He stared at your face until you met his eye. Then he kissed you. It was gentle, a hint of tenderness that allowed you to know that he understood why you worried. The longer the war lasted, the more things would get messy. This could cause a strain on any relationship.

 

“I think we can make it through,” he said. You shifted your body closer to his. The two of you had survived together on the planet. Even with the tension and temporary hatred of the other, you had made it through. Adversity had formed a bond between the two of you. You believed the words he had spoken to you, verbally agreeing as you reached up to pet Millicent’s head. “We have our lives together and separate from one another. I know that you are able to protect yourself, which means that I do not have to worry much.”

 

There was the added bonus that you achieving your goals never undermined him achieving his, and vice versa. You could each be successful in your fields of work. Neither of you held the other back.

 

The more you thought about these facts, the more you relaxed in his arms.

 

“Don’t take this too seriously, but…” Armitage shifted, his body growing tense beside yours. You grinned. “I’ll phrase it this way: _if_ we ever do get married, we should marry on that planet. It’d be funny.”

 

“It will be less funny if those creatures crash the wedding.” You quirked your lips to the side. “I will have research done to see if there is not a more ideal location on the planet. No need to revisit the _exact_ location.” That was fine by you, as was the fact that he had relaxed despite speaking of a possible marriage. A lot of men you knew, and even some women, had a tendency to flee from such conversations.

 

If you ever did marry, you wanted to be debt-free first.

 

“And maybe have five more tooka and loth-cats.” Beside you, Armitage sighed while above him Millicent purred more loudly.


End file.
